


Best served cold

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Gods of old [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Asshole Scott McCall, Awesome Melissa, BAMF Derek Hale, BAMF Kira Yukimura, BAMF Melissa McCall, BAMF Stiles, Banshee Lydia Martin, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Dark Derek, Dark Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Dark Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Human Sacrifice, Humans are not at the top of the food chain, Insecure Liam, M/M, Magical Derek Hale, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Naive Scott, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious Scott, Pack Destruction, Past Violence, Protective Mason, Revenge, Sassy Lydia, Scott is a Bad Friend, Self-Destruction, Series, Shy Liam, Werewolf Derek, Werewolf Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek want revenge now that they both have their powers and memories back. They're planning on annihilating the human race, completely and utterly wiping humanity from the face of the Earth that they created.</p><p>Scott's not happy about that and is determined to stop them, no matter the cost to himself or his pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' arms are glowing blue, and he lets out a small chuckle as another blue flame joins it, continuing to wrap around and up his arms, covering his torso completely in a matter of seconds. The flame continues winding its way around and around his body until he's encased in blue completely, and he grins over at Derek.
> 
> "Come on, now you give it a try."
> 
> "I know how to do this, Stiles. I don't need a lesson in control," Derek growled.

Stiles' arms are glowing blue, and he lets out a small chuckle as another blue flame joins it, continuing to wrap around and up his arms, covering his torso completely in a matter of seconds. The flame continues winding its way around and around his body until he's encased in blue completely, and he grins over at Derek.

"Come on, now you give it a try."

"I know how to do this, Stiles. I don't need a lesson in control," Derek growled.

"You say that, but you haven't had access to your power in over eight hundred years, Der. You need to practice."

"What I need is revenge," Derek snapped, making his way over to Stiles, grabbing his wrists firmly.

"You'll get it," Stiles promised, breath hitching in his throat as Derek started to nip his way down his neck. "But you need to practice first, or you'll kill us both, and we'll be stuck for another two hundred years. That's a long time to spend wallowing, Der-bear."

Derek didn't reply, releasing his wrists before pressing his face against Stiles' neck firmly. He flicked his tongue out, making Stiles shiver, and Stiles could feel him smiling against his skin.

"Have you grown soft over the years, Zbigniew?" Derek murmured, claws growing despite the calm tone to his voice.

Stiles just scoffed in response. "Of course not. I remember what they did to us, what they did to you," he replied, stroking Derek's stubbled cheek softly. "I'll not let them escape retribution. And I'll not be distracted; now, practice," he added firmly, slipping out of Derek's embrace to stand in the middle of the room. "A single flame and shield, c'mon."

Derek clenched his jaw slightly, but realised that Stiles wasn't going to give in, despite the fact he'd always had better control of the both of them. Sighing, he loosened his stance and let a single flicker of power appear on his palm. Wrapping the flame around him took more time and concentration than Derek remembered; Stiles' had been so much smoother, and he was fairly certain that there were gaps in his own circular shield.

Stiles walked around his shield, frowning and tutting here or there. Derek scowled at him, eyes glowing blue, and there was a burst in his power that had Stiles jumping back to avoid the sudden flare.

"Looks like you'll need to work on your control more, Der. It's tied in with your werewolf power, and I don't think there's a way to get it untangled until you've got control again," Stiles admitted, voice soft.

He weaved his fingers through an opening, fingertips touching the material over Derek's heart. Derek sighed, and the circle of flames disappeared suddenly, Derek capturing Stiles' hand in his own.

"I'll practice tomorrow, all right? We both will; you've had both of our powers for so long that you might overexert yourself trying to do the simplest of tasks."

Stiles grinned, fingers curling over Derek's. "All right, we can do that tomorrow. C'mon, I've got a surprise for you," he said, tugging Derek out of the loft.

Stiles drove them up to the outlook, and they were both silent for a moment as they looked out over the small town of Beacon Hills. Stiles reached back, grabbed a bag, and then clambered out of the Jeep, telling Derek to follow him. He did so immediately and without protest, and caught up to Stiles easily. It didn't take them long to arrive at their destination, Stiles having already prepared earlier that day. He had found a small clearing in the forest, and used a bedsheet to create a makeshift tent. Grinning, Stiles tugged Derek under the sheet, kissing him firmly.

"Where do you want to start?" Stiles asked, slipping onto Derek's lap and giving a small wriggle to settle himself in properly.

"Here," Derek murmured, pressing his lips to Stiles' gently. "Then here," he added with a kiss on his neck, "And I'll work my way down until you're screaming my name so loud the whole town'll hear," he promised, smirking.

"Hmm, that sounds nice, Der. But I was talking about revenge. Where do you want to start?"

"The same place it ended," Derek replied firmly.

"Ah, slight problem there. There was an earthquake there in the 1800s and the resulting flood means the whole town's been underwater since then. I kind of got annoyed when the last you ... didn't survive," Stiles admitted, hand curling in Derek's shirt. "I was with you for five years before you asked," he murmured softly, his free hand caressing his cheek.

"What was I like? Did I look very different?" Derek asked, turning his face to kiss his hand.

"You were a woman last time. Red hair, green eyes, you can kind of see why I was so smitten with Lydia," Stiles added with a soft chuckle. "You were a beautiful Irish woman, and you were so passionate about... well, everything. You loved your family, your homeland, your people. I've never seen that much passion in one person before. And the way you loved me was just as inspiring."

"Inspiring? What exactly did I do?" Derek asked, nipping at Stiles' fingertips.

Stiles shook his head, burying his face in the crook of Derek's neck. "Loved me as much as I loved you, and after what happened in the 1300s, I thought that wold be impossible."

"What happened in the 1300s?" Derek asked, rubbing circles on Stiles' back gently.

Stiles was quiet for a moment, trying to relax against Derek's palm, trying not to relive the memories that still seemed so fresh in his mind.

"You were killed by a hunter halfway through," he sobbed, curling up even more, his knees drawn up to his chest. "He'd been following us for days, and I thought we'd lost him, and then you asked for your power, you wanted to protect both of us, so I gave it to you, and that bastard burst the door open and killed you. Took me a while to come back down again after that. I couldn't... I couldn't contain the anger, the loss. I wept for years, and all I could see was your face, halfway through the power and screaming and that fucking pitchfork in your chest. I was so worried about you last time that I tried to refuse."

"You know you have to release my power when I ask for it, Stiles. We agreed on that; you could have hurt yourself by refusing," Derek murmured.

"I'd already hurt myself by accepting! You don't know what it's like to watch you die over and over, always at the hands of these ungrateful little bastards! We should have kept the dinosaurs instead. They were mindless beasts, but they didn't kill us, they understood what our presence meant," Stiles said, somewhere between a snarl and a sob.

"I know, love, I know. Don't worry, when we both have our control, these humans will know what our presence means again. And this time, we won't give them a chance to kill us," Derek said fiercely, kissing Stiles with his lips and teeth until they bled.

...

End of first chapter.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They train together in every spare moment they have. Since they have their memories back, they no longer need to pretend to be something they're not; Stiles doesn't have to go to school, they don't try to hide their power, and they no longer need to feign the need to sleep. It doesn't mean that they can't exhaust themselves though, and Derek ignores Stiles' protests of needing to practice more as he carries him over to their bed.

They train together in every spare moment they have. Since they have their memories back, they no longer need to pretend to be something they're not; Stiles doesn't have to go to school, they don't try to hide their power, and they no longer need to feign the need to sleep. It doesn't mean that they can't exhaust themselves though, and Derek ignores Stiles' protests of needing to practice more as he carries him over to their bed. They haven't seen anyone else for almost two weeks now, the memories of Derek and Stiles already fading in their minds, even Scott and the Sheriff. It's better this way; this way, they won't get stopped, won't be fought by those who thought them to be friends, they won't regret doing what they have to do.

"You asshole, I could be training now. I need to work on my defensive attacks more," Stiles muttered, even as he tugs Derek's arm around his body.

"You need to recharge your body, Stiles. We're human on the outside, and I don't want you to faint from exhaustion. Now, shut up and go to sleep."

"Such a sourwolf," Stiles muttered under his breath, but closes his eyes and soon falls asleep anyway.

Derek sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of Stiles' neck before he tightened his hold and fell asleep as well.

...

They wake up to find one very pissed-off redhead standing over their bed. Scott, Liam, Kira, and Mason are standing further back, looking a little confused but their confusion melts away to anger soon after both Stiles and Derek are awake.

"You two _bastards!_ Why the hell did you try to remove our memories of you?" Lydia demanded, glaring at them.

"Shuddup, Lyds," Stiles mumbled, waving a hand at her.

"It's better this way for everyone. Get out and forget us," Derek snarled.

"Yeah, good luck with that, you jerks. I'm _immune_ , remember? I can't forget you, no matter what you do! Scott remembers you, though it's vague, I admit. And the Sheriff, how could you do this to _him?_ He's your father, Stiles. Do you really think he'd be better off forgetting you instead of just owning up to the fact that you're gay?"

That startled a laugh out of Stiles, and it's old and ancient and hollow. Derek just wanted to wrap his arms around Stiles when he heard that sound, but then Stiles is sitting up and glaring at the gathered group, his entire being wrapped in blue.

"You have _no idea_ what you're talking about."

"Then tell us! We've come this far together, why stop now?" Lydia asked, though her eyes were wide at the sight of Stiles' body, then Derek's as he joined him, his own power wrapped around his body to protect his lover.

"Because _we'll kill you_. We'll destroy everything you love, we'll kill you, and we won't regret it," Stiles snarled, not a hint of lie in his beating chest.

Under the blanket, Derek took his hand and squeezed. Stiles clenched his hand tighter, and the fierce scent of magic and life and emotion filled the room. It's almost as overwhelming as the fear coming from the others.

"Then tell us why," Lydia said, pleading for answers despite the fear exuding from her.

Derek looked between Lydia and the others, then to Stiles. He sighed softly. "Give us half an hour and then we'll explain; get the Sheriff here," he added when Lydia relented and headed back out to the main area of the loft with the others.

Stiles looked at him when the others were gone. "You mean it, Dorek?"

"We've always been sentimental towards parental figures, Zbee. You hated having to do this to your father, even if he's not really your father."

"I know; I shouldn't feel this sentimental to them, but... _Something_ we created has to be good, right?"

"Right," Derek murmured, then moved back and pulled Stiles onto his lap. "We've got thirty minutes, try to get some more sleep, Zbee," he said, stroking his hair gently.

Stiles kissed his lips, shoulder, then his chest right over his firmly beating heart, and with a soft sigh, settled his head on Derek's torso to sleep again.

...

Thirty minutes passed all too quickly, and they were woken by Lydia's firm knock at the door.

"I don't care if you're both naked, I'm coming in," she called, opening the door.

Derek raised an eyebrow at her. "Remind me why we made banshees, Zbee?" he muttered, shaking his head.

"Wanted something to remind us of home," Stiles mumbled against his chest. "Is he here?" he asked softly, ignoring Lydia's curious look as he draped himself over the edge of the bed to find a shirt off the floor.

"Yes. You need more time?" Derek asked, resting a calming hand on Stiles' shoulder.

"Nah, better to get this over and done with," he replied, standing and slipping the shirt on. "You done staring, Lyds?" Stiles added, smirking when he saw her wide gaze focused on his cock.

"You... I didn't know you were hiding all of that under your clothes," she said, a light blush on her cheeks.

"There's a lot you don't know about _my_ Zbigniew. Now, get out," Derek snarled.

Stiles snorted and pressed a kiss to Derek's mouth as the door closed quickly behind Lydia's exit. "Green's a good look on you, Dor."

Derek rolled his eyes, but his ears were pink, and he pressed a firm kiss to Stiles' mouth before he got out of bed to get dressed as well.

"I still don't understand why you called me out here, Lydia. If this is some elaborate prank, then just know that ... " the Sheriff trailed off when he saw Stiles and Derek come out of the bedroom, his expression turning into a frown. "Who are you? Lydia, if I don't get an explanation in the _next minute_ , then - "

Derek sighed and flicked a small blue ball of flames at the Sheriff, letting his memories return. The others all looked confused, while the Sheriff stood there with a blue light burrowing into his chest.

" _Stiles?_ What... Who... Where have you been for the last two weeks?! I've been worried sick!"

"Hey, Dad. I've been here with Derek. Uh, why don't we all sit down?" Stiles offered, rubbing the back of his head before indicating to the large dining table in the middle of the loft.

"I want answers, son. From both of you," the Sheriff said with his most intimidating glare.

"Mine first," Lydia said firmly. "What are you?" she asked, looking between Derek and Stiles.

"What do you mean 'what are you?'; Stiles is human, Derek's a werewolf," Liam said, sounding nervous.

"Actually, according to Deaton, Stiles is a spark, and Derek's a werewolf, but you saw what he just did to the Sheriff; that's nothing any werewolf I know can do, and I want to know what you are," Lydia said, keeping her gaze on the two of them.

"We're gods," Stiles said simply, shrugging. "We escaped from our universe, came here before anything existed, and created this universe."

There was a moment of stunned silence, the others all staring at Stiles as if they thought he needed another trip back to Eichen House. Derek let out a snarl, and Lydia coughed slightly.

"I'm sorry, but Stiles, really? A god? That's... a bit much for someone with such awful taste in clothes."

"Fuck off; I didn't make fashion, that was all you guys. Fucking free will," Stiles muttered under his breath.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"What would it take to convince you?" Derek asked plainly, looking at them all.

"An act of God, perhaps?" Scott scoffed.

"Like what? A tsunami, an army of locusts, snow in the middle of summer? Be a little more specific here, Scotty," Stiles sneered at him.

"How about bringing Allison back?"

"Dude, that's not possible; she's already gone back into the universe. Getting all of those molecules and atoms back - much less in the right order - is fucking impossible unless you're willing to wait around for a few hundred years! You remember _Fullmetal Alchemist_ , right? Can't get something for nothing, and the something that she'd come back as would be completely fucked up."

"Then why didn't you stop her from getting killed?" Scott yelled, Kira flinching beside him.

"I'd just been mind-fucked by a nogitsune, you think I was in any frame of mind to stop someone from getting killed? Besides, it's not the way I work. Humans are ridiculous creatures, and she would have been killed a day later by something ordinary. At least this way she died heroically for you."

"That's not the point!"

Water started splattering on the table, stopping Scott's tirade as they all looked up to the source. Derek smirked at their expressions when they saw the cloud he'd created above the dining table.

"Is that... is that possible? Lydia?" Mason asked, looking to her.

"No, it shouldn't be. There's no way the atmospheric condition inside this loft could create enough condensation to make a cloud. That's not... It's not possible," Lydia said, face pale as she looked over at Derek and Stiles. "It's not a spell?"

"Nope," Stiles said, grinning as the cloud turned on and off like a light switch, rain falling and stopping at Derek's whim.

"All right. So you're _gods_. I... I think I can handle that. I just... need to think of a few more questions," Lydia said, swallowing and looking on the verge of a panic attack.

Mason rushed off to the kitchen to get water for everyone, Liam's jaw hanging open as he watched the cloud dissipate right before his eyes. Kira's heart was pounding erratically, and the Sheriff was still staring at Stiles and Derek's hands clasped on the table.

"You said you'd kill us and you wouldn't regret it. You mean that?" Scott asked suddenly, face stormy as he glared at Stiles.

"Yes. I've been waiting over 800 years to get revenge, and you think it's cruel that Allison was taken from you? Imagine that happening over and over by the same people you'd created, the people you gave life to, the ones you entrusted with free will, and all they're doing is destroying what you've made, what you _love_. Every single time, we've been hunted and killed, and I'm not letting it happen again. You think these past ten years of friendship are enough to make me give up on my love of over _15 billion_ _years?_ You have no idea what it's like to love someone like that, Scott."

"15 _billion_ years?" the Sheriff echoed weakly.

"Yeah, Pops. I might look like a scrawny 18 year old to you, but that's so far from the truth it's not funny. Well, maybe a little funny. I get carded at bars," Stiles snickered, Derek rolling his eyes beside him.

"I'm going to need something stronger than water," the Sheriff muttered as Mason returned with a pitcher of water and glasses tucked under his arm.

"What's the meaning of life?" Lydia asked suddenly.

"42," Stiles answered promptly, grinning at her over his glass of water.

"Don't be a dick, Stiles, and answer the question."

"It's as good an answer as any; we didn't create the universe with the intent to have all of you go on a quest for answers or something. We just... we wanted to create something together, to have a world to call our own," Derek said, shrugging. "We wanted something that was ours."

"Though, seriously, the fjords are my masterpiece."

"Please, that was natural corrosion," Derek muttered. "You managed to put that red lake in the middle of nowhere when I let you do something with water."

"Hey, I'm not the one that fucked up Atlantis and then sunk the fucking thing," Stiles retorted.

"Wait, Atlantis was real?" Kira asked, grinning.

"Uh, yeah. Where do you think the legends came from? There's truth in legend, or whatever the saying is."

"Can you time travel?" Mason asked.

"Seriously, guys, anything stronger than water?" the Sheriff interrupted before they could answer; time travelling was _definitely_ beyond the limits of his comfort zone. Admittedly, _gods_ wasn't much better.

"Nope, you don't need it. Drink your water," Stiles said firmly.

"We can time travel, but it's really too much effort. We'd have to revert back to our original forms, and it would take about 200 Earth years before we can descend again, and the future's always more interesting than the past anyway."

"Better plumbing facilities," Stiles added, giving a mock salute with his glass. "The BC years almost killed me, all that shit on the road."

"Wait, _B.C._? So Jesus Christ was real?"

"Yeah, he was a real guy. But I can assure you that neither of us knocked his mother up," Stiles said with a snort. "We'd been together for a few billion years by then; do you really think we'd cheat with a _human?_ "

"Hey! Human here," Mason said indignantly.

"You'll survive the slight, I'm sure," Derek said, rolling his eyes.

There was a lapse of silence and Stiles played with his glass of water, making it fill and empty with a touch of his finger.

"Are you really going to kill _everyone?_ " The question was soft and came from Liam, who'd been sitting there staring at them and everything else with wide eyes.

"Yes."

"Before or after I win my Fields Medal?" Lydia asked.

Stiles snorted a laugh, Derek chuckling beside him, and the others all laughed, tension breaking for the moment. They were still in shock at the blunt answer that had been provided without thought, without a thought for their family and friends, and for now, it seemed like the funniest thing in the world.

"Now that the impending destruction of humanity has been dealt with, what are your intentions with my son?" the Sheriff asked, looking at Derek.

Derek looked at Stiles incredulously, eyebrow raised at him. Stiles grinned back at him and tilted his head slightly as if to say ' _go ahead and answer the man_ '. The things he did for love.

...

End of the second chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles opened the loft door a second before Lydia knocked, and she stood there with her arm lifted and ready to knock for a few moments before she quickly lowered her arm, her cheeks flushing red.
> 
> "What do you want, Lydia?" Stiles asked over his shoulder, already heading back to the kitchen.

Stiles opened the loft door a second before Lydia knocked, and she stood there with her arm lifted and ready to knock for a few moments before she quickly lowered her arm, her cheeks flushing red.

"What do you want, Lydia?" Stiles asked over his shoulder, already heading back to the kitchen.

Lydia decided that was as much of an invitation to enter as anything, and hurried after him. "You said that you and Derek created banshees; that you wanted something to remind you of home."

"Yep, what about it?" Stiles asked, stirring something in a pot, his back to her and not paying her an ounce of attention.

Lydia tried not to feel slighted at that, at Stiles' obvious dismissal of her and her ability to be a threat if he showed his back so easily. "What... what was your home like? Why do banshees remind you of it? What can banshees really do?" she asked, the last question almost a whisper.

At Scott's insistence, Lydia had spent the last three days researching everything about the supposed gods that Derek and Stiles were meant to be. What she had found hadn't inspired much hope in Scott's plan to change their minds about destroy Earth. Stiles and Derek had been torn apart from each other - literally, physically, emotionally, in every way possible - and over the years, they'd found one another over and over again, wandering the earth until they were together and whole again. They were the essence of yin and yang, light and dark, night and day, and without the other, then Derek and Stiles would be mere shells of their own existence. It wasn't so much a love story as a desperate, agonising and lonely search for the other. Just thinking about the things that had happened to Deidre in Ireland still made her feel nauseous, and that was nothing compared to what had happened to Johan in the Netherlands.

"You sure you want to know?" Stiles asked, glancing over at her briefly.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"In that case, I'd better put another place out for dinner," Derek murmured behind her, slipping past to grab another set of cutlery.

"How's everyone going? Starting to forget us again, or are they now filled with a righteous naivety and a desperate need to save everyone?" Stiles asked, rolling his eyes as he tipped the pot into the sink's colander.

"The latter's holding strong," Lydia admitted.

"What are your thoughts on our plan?" Derek asked, arms folded as he watched her from the kitchen's entrance.

Lydia felt as though she was being tested and breathed deeply to steady her sudden bout of nerves. "Not the way I'd go about getting revenge, but justified considering everything that's happened to you both over the years."

Stiles scoffed and shook his head. "You found those meagre folktales about us, I presume? Don't believe everything you read; the truth is far worse than that watered down crap. And it's not just what's happened to us, it's what's happened to our creation."

Lydia must have looked confused at Stiles' words, because Derek went on to explain further. "Our universe, our galaxy, our planets. We only inhabited one, as a test run per se, and the complete and utter destruction that our planet is going through at the hands of humanity is unforgivable. There used to be so many trees, forests that were designed to help you lot breathe, so what do you do? Cut them down, burn them, destroy the very things that were put there to _help you live_. You're a bunch of mindless apes, careless and destructive, and we're tired of it."

"Killing us every thousand years or so certainly isn't helping things, either," Stiles snickered. "You read about our hometown in Poland, the disease and bad luck that befell them after we were driven out?"

"Yes. Then there was an earthquake there in the early 1800s, around the time Deidre was killed in Ireland, the tectonic plates shifted, and the entire town's been underwater since," Lydia said with a brief nod.

"They're lucky I decided to leave any of Poland behind," Stiles muttered, stirring the meat and sauce through the pasta. "Yeah, well, that 'bad luck' was because they drove us out. We help places prosper - good weather, healthy crops, all that sort of shit - and when we're attacked, killed, or driven out of town - every single time, it all goes to shit. The Sahara Desert was more than sand when we were there, that's for sure."

"The Arctic was nicer when there were a few more trees," Derek added with a grin. "You lot are killing yourselves even faster when you kill us. Bunch of idiots that never learn their lesson."

Lydia accepted a bowl from Stiles, taking it to the dining table, sitting at the third setting quietly. "Is it something you do when you're killed, or an automatic response by the earth?"

"The earthquake was me, but the rest of it is kind of like a reset button. Fuck with us, your land gets fucked over. Should only take another thousand years for the whole world to be barren anyway, the way you lot are going," Stiles muttered, waving his fork at her.

"All right; what can we do to fix it then?"

"Too late with the way the atmosphere's already fucked. Just spend the rest of the time planting trees and don't be dicks to gods."

Lydia raised her eyebrow at Stiles' response, then shook her head. "I shouldn't have expected anything else."

"Hey, you lot wouldn't be in this mess if you'd just left us alone. We just wanted to be together, to be loved, so don't you come in here and say it's all our fault, because it's fucking not!"

Lydia's bowl smashed to pieces before her eyes, pasta, sauce and meat spraying out across the table.

"Okay, _that_ was my fault. Give me a sec," Stiles muttered, and a blue light covered the mess on the table.

Lydia's eyes widened as she saw the bowl repair itself, the food hanging in the air for a second before falling back into the bowl, not a single crack to show it had been damaged.

"You've got questions about being a banshee?" Derek asked calmly, looking at her across the table.

"Yes, I do. I just want to know what I am, why I am the way I am. Please," she added.

"In our old universe, banshees aren't quite as physical as you are, more corporeal. Long winding things, and everyone has one. Banshees not only predict death, but they can cause it too, and people use them to fight against one each other when they've had a slight against them. They're similar to pets, but more conscious and aware than the pets you would find here. Some banshees were mentally advanced enough to provide guidance to their owners and were allowed to express their own opinions before agreeing to a fight."

"There actually wasn't much fighting, people were too busy doing their own shit to fight. The universe we came from was so more scientifically advanced than this one, and most of the fights happened between the scientists," Stiles said, laughing. "There was one science conference that actually set up a fighting arena once the debates were over."

"That fight was how we met," Derek said, smiling at him fondly.

"Oh, _here we go again_. The minute you remember, you always find some way to tell this story," Stiles groaned, hiding his face in his hands, but Lydia could see that he was grinning.

"You never tell it right," Derek replied pointedly, continuing when Stiles waved him on. "The conference had a fighting arena set up, three football fields wide, scientists on either end, and this one decided to run out in the middle of the fight, completely naked but for his banshee wrapped around his waist. Distracted both scientists enough that he won the fight with his banshee, a tiny thing that was barely half the size of the arena," Derek snorted.

"Derek found me afterwards, complained that I'd ruined his bet, and my theories weren't structurally sound anyway. Two billion years later, I proved him I was right, and we came here. Lost our banshees to get through, but it was a necessary sacrifice."

"Tnerg wouldn't think so; she loved you."

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, that's how banshees came about here. You're minuscule compared to ours, but there's enough similarities to provide some comfort."

Lydia took a moment to finish her food, thinking about what they'd said. Part of her was dying to ask hundreds more questions - _what sort of science did they know, just how advanced were they, what could they tell her?_ \- but she forced herself to stay silent for the moment. Finishing her meal, she set the bowl aside and looked at the two men across from her.

"You said banshees could do more than predict death; how do banshees kill?"

"Screaming, obviously. Hit a certain frequency, get within a particular range, bam! Dead."

"Let me reiterate: how do **I** kill?" Lydia asked firmly.

"You're not strong enough to kill us, and you never will be," Derek said pointedly.

"I have no intention of killing either of you. I have no idea how you're planning on destroying the world, but if you plan on dragging it out, I want to be prepared to defend myself against the survivors with more than a baseball bat."

"You can't. You're not built that way. We didn't want to turn you or any of the other banshees into pets, so we gave you free will, just like the rest of the world."

Lydia frowned slightly. "So... If I give up my free will, I'll be able to defend myself?"

"You give up your free will, then you won't know that you need to defend yourself, Lyds. You'll probably attack everyone, friend or foe, before we even get our plan started," Stiles muttered.

"Well, that will be helpful for you then, won't it? Besides, how do you know I'm not immune to anything you might do?" she added.

"Because we know the limitations of our own creations," Derek muttered. "You will lose your will, and you'll become like a Kanima, a creature seeking a master because you won't be able to fend for yourself, even though you'll be able to defend yourself. Think about what you're asking before we take you up on your foolish offer."

"You'll be my masters then. Isn't that what banshees are in your world anyway? Why is this any different?" Lydia asked.

"Because they were never given free will, they _earned_ it. You were given it freely, with the hope that it would be used properly, and yet you have abused it; if we take your own free will away now, you will never be able to get it back again," Derek snarled.

"You'll never be able to get your Fields medal," Stiles added. "You wouldn't have a mind of your own to do your work, to do what you've worked your whole life to achieve."

" _My whole life?_ My whole life is minuscule compared to yours! You've lived for _billions_ of years - longer than when the earth was created, longer than the universe itself! You think a measly twenty-odd years is worth _anything?_ "

Stiles sighed, shaking his head. "That's the whole point, Lydia. Every year is worth everything, no matter how young or old you are, and you are not going to waste what's left of your life being a pet to us. Now get out there, live your life, win your Fields medal, and then we'll see if you still want what you're asking for."

"I hate you, _both_ of you, you know that?" she asked, hot and angry tears in her eyes.

"Because we're not doing what you want? Or because you don't want to know what happens to humanity and we're refusing to let you die before then?" Derek asked.

" _Both_ ," Lydia said, swallowing past the lump in her throat; the friends she'd made and lost, the things she'd found out about herself, about the world itself, all of it would be for naught when the world ended.

It was difficult to slam the loft's sliding door, but somehow, Lydia managed it. Derek cleared up the dishes, Stiles trailing along behind him, sitting up on the kitchen island and kicking his feet as he watched Derek clean the dishes silently.

"They're all focusing on the wrong thing, you know that, don't you?" Stiles asked, looking down at the speckled kitchen floor.

"Of course. It's just like humans to think of nothing but themselves; they still think they're at the top of the food chain," Derek muttered, shaking his head. "They're all so worried about the end of humanity that they're not even considering the world itself. We're just hitting the reset button on them, not our universe."

"Of course not. We did create something good together, it's just not what they all think it is. Silly humans thinking they're better than the universe. We have to clean up the junk they've left in space."

"The oil in the oceans."

"Deforestation."

"Animal extinction."

"I miss the Tasmanian tigers," Stiles said with a sigh.

"You're just saying that because you made them," Derek said over his shoulder, grinning.

"Well, _someone_ had to create the awesome animals after the dodo disaster."

"Do you want me to bring up the platypus again? I will, don't tempt me."

Stiles didn't answer for a moment, and Derek turned around with a frown, just in time to be hit in the face with Stiles' shirt.

"What are you doing?" he asked, throwing his shirt to the side.

" _Tempting_ you," Stiles said, grinning at him broadly.

Derek laughed, pulling Stiles off the kitchen island and firm up against his body. "Consider me tempted."

"Enough flirting, more fucking."

"Impatient as ever," Derek murmured against his ear.

"Damn fucking straight I am. Now, clothes off. Bed," Stiles breathed, grinding his hips down against Derek firmly.

Derek agreed with a soft noise, lips pressed to the spot under Stiles' ear and making him shiver. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, keeping him in place as he carried him up to their bedroom. No matter what the others were planning, it wouldn't stop them from getting their long-awaited revenge.

...

End of the third chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What did they tell you, Lydia?" Scott hissed at her during Econ.
> 
> "Nothing we didn't already know," she replied, shrugging. "They're still planning on killing us all."
> 
> "Lydia, Scott! Care to share your conversation with the class?" Coach Finstock asked, looking between them pointedly.
> 
> Scott opened his mouth as if he actually planned on telling them that they were all going to die, and Lydia kicked his shin sharply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice that I've changed the summary for the full fic. Did this to better explain the story, rather than the first chapter.

"What did they tell you, Lydia?" Scott hissed at her during Econ.

"Nothing we didn't already know," she replied, shrugging. "They're still planning on killing us all."

"Lydia, Scott! Care to share your conversation with the class?" Coach Finstock asked, looking between them pointedly.

Scott opened his mouth as if he actually planned on telling them that they were all going to die, and Lydia kicked his shin sharply.

"No, Coach," she said, smiling up at him when Scott let out a cry of pain.

"Good, no one cares anyway," Finstock muttered. The bell rang loudly and he glared at Scott and Lydia before heading back to his desk at the front of the classroom. "And on that note, get out of here before I start drinking during the day."

Lydia rolled her eyes at that; she knew that Finstock had been sober for 13 years. Ignoring Scott, she gathered her things and left the classroom. She had thought about her dinner with Stiles and Derek over the weekend and decided that they were right: she could live her life the way she wanted until they decided to destroy the earth, and no supernatural being was going to stop her. Not even a puppy like Scott.

Kira looked at Scott, eyes wide. "Is Lydia still going to help us?"

"I don't think so," he replied, shaking his head. "They must have done something to her; Lydia wouldn't just give up like this."

Looking out the door to where Lydia had left, Kira bit her lip and frowned. "Are you sure, Scott? It doesn't sound like something Stiles or Derek would do, does it?"

"They're not Stiles and Derek anymore, you have to remember that, Kira," Scott said firmly, but Kira could tell that he didn't really believe it.

Nonetheless, she nodded and quietly followed Scott outside for lunch.

...

Stiles grinned over at Derek as a flash of lightning went off overhead, the light reflected in the windows. Derek muttered under his breath, another strike of lightning going off in the second storm to the right, thunder rolling after it.

"Already resorting to thunder, huh?" Stiles chuckled, three quick successions of lightning and an even louder rumble of thunder following.

"Show off," Derek said, rolling his eyes.

Rain started to patter in the right storm, the left one beginning almost immediately afterwards. The rain grew colder, thicker, small shards of ice forming until full hailstones were belting down on the town below.

"I win," Stiles called, grinning.

"The rain was my idea."

"Hail was mine," he retorted.

Derek let out a small growl, eyes glowing blue, and then a fierce wind started up, tearing through the trees in the preserve.

With all of the noise from the storm, it took both Stiles and Derek a few seconds to realise that the alarm was going off and someone was coming up to the loft. Derek turned to the door briefly, sniffing.

"Scott," Derek snarled.

"I'll deal with him."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"I know, Dor. Just try not to kill him yet; we don't want all of this planning to go to waste," Stiles said with a grin, pulling Derek down to kiss him firmly.

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist, pressing him up against the hard lines of his own body, loving how perfectly they fit together. They both ignored the pounding on the loft door and Scott's calls. He sounded annoyed, and they were both fairly worked up and turned on by the storm - the lightning and rolling clouds and thunder just _did_ something to them, and they could barely keep their hands off each other when there was a storm raging.

"Hey, assholes! I know you're in there!" Scott yelled, tearing open the loft door, drenched to the bone and looking as angry as they'd ever seen him before.

Derek's claws elongated, his eyes flashed blue, and he roared at the interruption through thick fangs.

"Derek, what did we just talk about?" Stiles murmured, pressing his lips to his cheek and neck, a hand pressed between his shoulder blades to help calm him.

"That was rude; he didn't have to do that," Derek growled, claws retracting but fangs still sharp.

"I've been knocking and screaming for five minutes!" Scott argued.

"It was hardly one minute, and if you couldn't tell, we were a bit preoccupied. Now, what have you come here for?" Stiles asked, turning around to face Scott but not moving from Derek's embrace.

A little more placated now that Stiles hadn't left his arms, Derek let his fangs slip away, nuzzling at his lover's neck. There was a flash of lightning, as if in response to the action, and Derek hid his grin against Stiles' skin, pressing a kiss to his warm flesh.

"This storm is your fault, isn't it?" Scott demanded. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?" he added, glaring.

"Uh, what?" Stiles asked, confused.

"I had a date tonight! With Kira! The exact second we walked outside, it started pouring on us, and Mr. Yukimura refused to let Kira go out with me on my bike! You did this on purpose!"

Stiles scoffed at the accusation. "You hearing yourself, Scotty? Blaming me for the weather? I created the fucking universe, and you think I give enough fucks about your little date to make it rain on you? Seriously, you think you're that important, that the world revolves around you?"

Scott opened and closed his mouth a bit at his answer, but still looked stubborn enough to believe that Stiles really had done it to spite him.

"Tell me, Scotty, do you actually think about things before you do them, or do you just turn up and hope for the best? 'Cause, I gotta say, the shit you've been spewing just doesn't seem at all thought about. You're accusing me of ruining your precious little date - oh, and by the way, you could've fucking _stayed with Kira_ , not come out here to bitch - and you're accusing me of doing it on purpose? Did you even think of the consequences of this, or you still think of me as Stiles, your best friend from kindergarten?" Stiles sneered.

Scott's mouth finally stopped flapping like a fish, and he glared. " _Not anymore._ "

"Good, now get the fuck out of here before I decide to shove a lightning bolt up your ass for being a rude and ungrateful little bastard, just like the rest of them."

Scott turned abruptly, leaving without a word of goodbye, and Stiles shook his head at just how rude his friend was being - he seriously hadn't timed the fucking rain to coincide with his date, and so what if he had anyway? It was rain, for fuck's sakes, not exactly the end of the world. Before Stiles could say exactly that, Derek went still behind him, obviously hearing something with his werewolf hearing that Stiles couldn't pick up on. He let out a low snarl against Stiles' shoulder blades, and behind them, there was another flash of lightning, a roll of thunder on its heels, and in the cacophony of noise, there was the sound of an explosion.

"My bike!" Scott cried.

Stiles turned to Derek, burying his face against his chest as he laughed.

"Now, where were we?" Derek murmured, turning Stiles' face up to him so he could kiss him again.

Stiles' laughter gave way to a moan and he rutted his hips up against Derek's eagerly. "About there, I think."

...

Stiles was woken to the sound of a timid knock at the loft door, and he blinked wearily in the daylight as he stumbled out of bed and towards the door.

"What is it?" he asked through a wide and gaping yawn.

"Uh - Stiles!" Kira squeaked, eyes round as saucers.

" _What?_ " Stiles snapped.

" _You're naked!_ "

"Your point? Either come in and tell me what you want, or stay out there and spontaneously combust over a lack of clothing, I don't care," Stiles muttered, heading over to the kitchen for a much-needed coffee. "Derek! The kitsune's here. She's freaking out 'cause she saw my junk."

" _I'm not_... yeah, okay, a _little_ , but... Why do you have to be naked?" Kira asked, cheeks bright red as she kept her eyes firmly glued to Stiles' hairline.

"Because we had sex last night. It's hard to have sex with clothes on," Derek murmured behind her, raising his eyebrow, and threw a pair of boxers at Stiles' head. "Put these on before the kitsune loses her tail."

Stiles rolled his eyes, but slipped the boxers on anyway. "It's not that hard to have sex with clothes on; you just have to be very willing to ruin your outfit for certain tabs to fit in certain slots."

"That would never work for us considering the amount of sex we have," Derek snorted.

"Over eight-hundred years, buddy. Be glad I let you wear clothes _at all_ ," Stiles said pointedly.

"What did you come here for, Kira?" Derek asked, moving to grab a coffee mug from beside Stiles.

"Is it true you hit Scott's bike with a lightning bolt?" she asked, looking between them.

"Yes, and I'd do it a billion times over again," Derek replied with a shrug, spooning instant coffee into the mug and then adding the boiled water.

"Why?" Kira asked, surprised.

"You mean he didn't tell you what he was saying about us, about me?" Stiles sneered over the rim of his mug.

Kira's surprise faded quickly and she shook her head. "No, he didn't."

"Why am I not surprised?" Stiles muttered. "Derek told me. After the first round of sex, at least. Kind of pissed me off, but I'm refusing to lower myself to his standards."

"Scott's a good guy," Kira said, voice small.

Stiles didn't even need to hear Derek's soft 'lie' muttered in response to know that she didn't really mean it.

"Yeah, totally a good guy. I mean, he loves puppies and animals, so he's got to be good, right? Doesn't mean _shit_ ," Stiles said, shaking his head. "There's a tonne of good people out there who don't need to work with animals to prove that they're good; he's done some serious shit to people against their will, he's hurt people, he's trapped them and made them less than what they were, all because it suited him. He tell you what happened to Peter yet?"

"He's in Eichen House," Kira said, looking confused when Stiles and Derek both shook their heads.

"He's in there all right, but he's not alone. You remember what Deaton had to do to get info on what Kate did to Derek in Mexico?" Stiles prompted, and Kira nodded quickly. "Yeah, guess who Peter's cell-mate is?"

"Really? But... Deaton couldn't get out of that coma without Lydia! He was quiet for weeks afterwards, and wouldn't even talk to Scott!" Kira said, eyes wide.

"Yeah, and that wasn't even a full _day_ of being trapped with Dr. Valuck. Peter's fucked up and an evil shit, but to send him in there with the intent of trapping him in his mind _again_ is _way_ more fucked up. Meredith and the Benefactor happened the last time Peter was stuck in his mind, no telling what'll happen next," Stiles said, letting out a spine-chilling whistle.

Kira looked down at the kitchen bench, worrying at her bottom lip. "Scott... He thinks that you did something to Lydia. Mind control or used your power on her to turn her against him," she added.

Derek snorted and shook his head, while Stiles just rolled his eyes. "My, Scott certainly thinks we're that invested in his life, doesn't he?" Stiles murmured to Derek, smirking now.

"All we did was talk to her, same as you, Kira," Derek promised.

"We really don't give a fuck what you do; you'll never kill us or stop us, so just do whatever the fuck you want to do until the end. Finish high school, go on a holiday, travel and see the world, or join Scott on his little crusade. It's your life to live, and you can do whatever you like with it. _We do not give a fuck_."

Kira nodded in response, looking a little whelmed at Stiles' vehement words. Then she looked up at them, breathing a little unsteadily before she replied. "Will you tell me how long we have? Ballpark figure, not the exact date," she hurried to reassure them.

Derek looked to Stiles, raising an eyebrow slightly. Stiles tilted his head to the slightly, and if she hadn't seen them do something similar to this over the years, Kira would swear that they were both telepathic.

"Three to six years. Should be enough time for Lydia to get her Fields Medal, and you to do whatever it is you want."

"Years?!" Kira asked, eyes wide in surprise.

"Would you prefer months? Weeks, days? We could probably destroy everything in a few hours; what do you think, Zbee?" Derek asked, trying hard not to grin, Stiles looking as though he was seriously considering his question.

"No-no-no-no! It wasn't a complaint! I swear, just... Years. I can deal with that. Thank you," Kira gushed, rushing over to kiss Derek's cheek, then Stiles'. "I mean... I kinda wish you'd reconsider the whole mass death thing, but... I can deal with it. I guess. Um, maybe," she added, wringing her hands.

"You want us to erase your memory?" Derek offered.

"W-what?"

"You remember what we did before, erasing your memory of us?" Derek prompted, getting a quick and wary nod in return. "We can do the same thing, give you a sense of our answer without the full memory attached. If you'd like," he added.

"So, like... I'd know that everyone was going to die, but I wouldn't know the exact 3 to 6 years part?" Kira replied.

"Yeah, something like that. You'd get a feeling of the 3 to 6 years part, but wouldn't remember us telling you that part specifically. Fuck, we can erase your memory of this whole place if you wanted to get out sooner," Stiles offered, shrugging.

"Wait. Beacon Hills, you, Derek, _Scott?_ "

"Yep; it'd all be gone, replaced with whatever you wanted to believe."

"Sounds a little too _Eternal Sunshine_ for me," Kira said with a small laugh.

"No problem, just the year part of the conversation then," Derek said.

Kira looked between them a bit nervously, then took another deep breath, and nodded firmly.

Stiles and Derek moved towards her, and Kira closed her eyes tight, feeling a pressure at the front of her head.

...

"Did they tell you?" Scott asked Kira, voice quiet and eyes intense during homeroom the next morning.

Finstock glared at them as he continued to call attendance, and Scott sat back in his seat quickly.

Scott repeated his question as they left for English together, and Kira shook her head.

"They didn't tell me when," she said. "They told me about Peter. You just said that Deaton had taken care of it, that he was in Eichen House. Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

Scott's eyes widened. "W-what? It is the truth! He's in Eichen and Deaton took care of it!"

"Yeah, but he's trapped in his own mind, Scott. That's... That's not right, and you know it, otherwise you wouldn't have lied to me about it," Kira said, looking at him and searching for something Scott wasn't sure she'd find.

"Kira, I didn't tell you because Eichen House is a big part of your history, and I didn't want you - or your parents - to relive any of that."

"You can't protect me all the time, Scott! I'm not a child, and you don't have to lie to me because you think you'll hurt my feelings! I'd rather have the truth and be hurt than have you lie to me! That's not what relationships are made of," Kira said, angrily, desperately.

"I know that! I swear I do, I just - "

"And what about the other things you've done? The people you've hurt, the people you've used? Who else have you trapped and used against their will?" Kira demanded.

"I... We need to get to English, Kira. Can we talk about this later?" Scott asked, seeing that a group of people had gathered around them, curious to witness the arguing couple.

"No, we can't," Kira said. "My parents are leaving for Japan, and I'm going with them. I want to travel, see as much of the world as I can, and I ... I can't do that here, Scott."

At the edge of the gathering with the students, Finstock's mouth dropped open at Kira's announcement. "You can't leave! We've got a game this Friday and you're goalie! God, Greenberg, stop your whimpering! _Someone call Danny!_ "

"You're leaving? You're really leaving me? Beacon Hills?" Scott asked, eyes wide. "What about _us?_ "

Kira smiled softly and shook her head. "You're not going to let this go with them, I know you won't, Scott. I know you too well, and it's going to drag you down, and I'll be dragged down with you. I can't do that, I won't do that to myself. I need to get out before this gets any worse. You have to understand that."

"Yeah. I understand you're putting yourself first. You're getting yourself out and leaving the rest of us here to die," Scott hissed, jaw clenched.

"Sometimes it's the only thing you can do. You can't save everyone, Scott, you have to accept that truth some time," Kira said.

"No! No, I don't, okay! Because so far, I _have_ saved everyone! I have, and I won't stop now!"

"That's exactly my point, Scott. You won't ever stop," Kira said, placing a soft kiss on his cheek and heading to English, the group of students parting before her.

Finstock was actually weeping, and Kira gave him a brief smile.

"We're not leaving until Saturday, Coach. I can still play one last game."

"Oh, thank god," Finstock said, reaching out as if to hug her in relief, then clenched his fists and pulled his arms back. "Good to hear, Yukimura. All of you get to class! No, I don't want your tissue, Greenberg, who knows where that thing's been?"

The students hurried to disperse before Finstock could gather them up and force them to do laps around the oval (he'd done it once before until Mrs. Martin realised that a significant number of her students were missing from class).

Liam glanced to Mason and grabbed his hand. Hearing Kira's conversation with Scott just cemented his idea to visit Stiles and Derek. Mason seemed to get that without him needing to say so, and Liam squeezed his hand in thanks before letting go. They'd visit Stiles and Derek that weekend, after the game and they'd seen Kira off at the airport. It was the least they could do for the kitsune.

...

End of the fourth chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek were watching a documentary about black holes on television when Liam and Mason arrived on Saturday afternoon after seeing Kira and her parents off at the airport. Scott hadn't been there. Surprisingly, Coach had turned up, and gave Kira her lacrosse jersey to take with her to Japan. Kira had waited for Scott until the final boarding call, then turned and boarded the plane without looking back. Liam and Mason had waited even longer, but he still hadn't shown, even half an hour later.

Stiles and Derek were watching a documentary about black holes on television when Liam and Mason arrived on Saturday afternoon after seeing Kira and her parents off at the airport. Scott hadn't been there. Surprisingly, Coach had turned up, and gave Kira her lacrosse jersey to take with her to Japan. Kira had waited for Scott until the final boarding call, then turned and boarded the plane without looking back. Liam and Mason had waited even longer, but he still hadn't shown, even half an hour later.

The two boys knocked on the loft door and waited, Liam moving back and forth on his feet nervously.

"Hey, it's the puppies! C'mon in," Stiles called, and the loft door opened even though both men were still sitting in front of the television.

"I'm not a puppy," Mason muttered.

"Close enough," Stiles replied, shrugging.

"Mind if we finish watching this show? There's barely fifteen minutes left," Derek added.

"Okay," Liam said, sitting on the armchair while Mason sat up on the armrest beside him. Mason's presence calmed him, and Liam clutched his hand.

"Why are you watching a documentary on black holes? Didn't you create the universe?" Mason asked, frowning.

"Yes, but we never created black holes," Stiles murmured, chewing on a fingernail.

"Wait, really? So, what does that mean?" Liam asked nervously, eyes wide.

"It means we've spent the last hour and fifteen minutes watching this show, and would like to watch the last fifteen minutes in peace," Stiles snapped, relaxing when Derek took his hand, drawing a triskelion on the back of his palm.

Liam and Mason went quiet, watching the last of the documentary as if they could glean something from it themselves. The credits rolled without the boys being any wiser about black holes, but Derek and Stiles were looking at each other, heads tilting and eyebrows raising like they knew something. Then Stiles blinked and the moment was over. He turned the TV off and they both turned their attention to Liam and Mason.

"So, what can we do for you?" Stiles asked, grinning.

Liam was nervous and couldn't get the words out, hands running over his jeans to try to wipe off the sweat. Mason took his hand and squeezed gently.

"Want me to ask?" Mason offered, and grateful, Liam nodded quickly. "You're still planning on killing everyone?" he asked, looking to Derek and Stiles.

"Yes, we are. Do we need to write it in the sky or something; how many times do we have to repeat ourselves?" Stiles muttered.

Derek shook his head slightly and traced a triskelion between Stiles' shoulder blades, watching as he calmed almost immediately. Stiles sighed and rested back against Derek.

"Sorry, you're like the fourth person who's asked in the last week, and I'm getting kinda pissed that I have to keep repeating myself," Stiles muttered.

Mason gave a brief nod. "We can't change your mind; there's nothing we can say or do to save us?"

On Stiles' back, Derek's hand stilled, and Derek sat up a bit straighter, leaning forward.

"Save us? As in _us_ , all of humanity? Or _us_ , just you two?" Derek asked, a wolfish grin on his face.

"Would it matter? If you can save two of us, five of us, ten or twenty of us, why couldn't you save all of us?" Mason asked.

Derek chuckled at Mason avoiding his question, shook his head and rested back against the lounge, his hand continuing to trace the calming motion on Stiles' back.

"Could you save Beacon Hills?" Liam asked suddenly. "Not everyone, just us, our town?"

"Saving Beacon Hills means saving the Nemeton, saving Eichen House, saving all of the weird and wacky that comes with this town. The town'll be overrun by all kinds of Big 'n Bad within a week, and you'd most likely be killed in a painful and bloody mess by them instead of quick by us," Stiles said, shrugging.

"How are you planning on doing it?" Liam asked, clenching Mason's hand tighter.

"Some say that the world will end in fire, some say in ice."

"Quoting Robert Frost doesn't help us. How can we survive if we don't know what to expect?" Mason asked, desperate and bordering on angry.

"Who said you were being given the chance to survive?" Derek snarled. "You seem to think that we are not serious about this; do you, what, think that we are going to see you at the end, crying, pitiful, and pathetic, and we'll break? Do you think that our will is so weak as to be broken over ones such as you? You are lucky we have even let you remember and know what is going to happen. There are very few who have been granted that favour.

"I don't want to know," Liam admitted quietly.

"What? Liam, you mean that?" Mason asked, surprised.

Liam took a second to breathe in, try to swallow past the lump in his throat, and look at Mason to nod firmly. "I can't handle this, Mas. I either need to know everything or nothing at all. I know they won't tell us everything, and I kinda get that. But I can't live like this, not when I know something is going to happen, but not what or how or when. I don't want to remember anything. I just want it to go away. I want to play lacrosse, finish high school, be with you, be normal. I mean, the werewolf thing probably isn't going to go away any time soon, but it'll be more normal than this."

"We can take that part away as well, if you'd like?" Derek offered suddenly.

"Really?!" Liam asked, eyes wide as he stared at them.

"Yes, really. I mean, you'd be easier to break than you are now, but we can take it away if you truly want," Stiles said with a nod.

"Yes. Please, I definitely want that. I didn't ask for this; I just want to be normal again. Please," Liam said.

Beside him, Mason sighed heavily. "Take my memory too," he muttered. "Don't give me that look, as if I'm going to stand by and let you not remember anything while I remember it all. I'd have to tell you, and we'd be right back here all over again," Mason pointed out. He pressed a firm kiss to Liam's mouth. "All right, I'm ready."

"We'll still feel the same about each other, memories or not, right?" Liam asked, nervous all of a sudden.

Stiles and Derek stood up in the centre of the lounge room, hands held loosely between them.

"Sure, we can leave that in. You might not have a whole lot of context as to why you feel so strongly about each other when you were only friends a few months ago, but humans always do have a way of filling in the gaps. Maybe you got hurt during lacrosse and Mason was the one that stayed beside your hospital bed all night?" Stiles suggested.

"You two sure about this? We can't do it if you're not 100% positive," Derek added.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Liam said firmly, standing and stepping towards Derek.

"Sure," Mason agreed, moving towards Stiles and taking Liam's hand in his.

Stiles and Derek let go of each other, moving forward to press their blue-glowing hands against the boys' foreheads.

...

"Liam! Liam, wait up," Scott called across the hallway, but Liam continued on as if he hadn't heard Scott over the rest of the students' noise. "Liam, I called you. You okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. You're ... Scott, right?" Liam asked, frowning up at him.

"Yeah, Liam, I'm Scott," he replied, confused beyond belief. "Did you talk to Stiles and Derek?"

"Who's Derek? What's a Stiles?" Liam asked, bringing his messenger back across his front, as if to put something between him and Scott, like he was afraid of him, which was ridiculous of course.

"Stiles and Derek, former members of our pack. You said that you and Mason would go talk to them on Saturday. We agreed on this last week, Liam. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Okay, obviously, you've got me confused with another Liam or something, 'cause I've never seen you apart from lacrosse training. We've never talked about a Derek or Stiles, and you're kinda freaking me out," Liam said, Mason coming up behind him when he saw that Liam was uncomfortable.

Scott's eyes widened. _How did Liam not remember him?!_ Even Mason was looking at him weirdly, like he'd never talked to him before, like they hadn't been part of his pack for the last six months.

"But Liam, you're my beta. You're part of my pack. You're a werewolf, like I am," Scott said, voice quiet as he let his eyes filter to red.

"Whoa, those are seriously insane contacts, but trying to convince us that you're a werewolf? Have you been watching too much TV or something?" Mason asked with a scoff.

"It's true. Liam's one too. Look, I'll prove it," Scott said, reaching out and grabbing Liam's arm.

"Okay, crazy person. We've dealt with your weirdness enough for one day. Go see the student counsellor," Mason said, tugging Liam back against him and trying to get him away from Scott.

Scott was obviously stronger, and he kept his hold on Liam's arm easily.

"No, it's true! Just give me a second," he said, applying more pressure to Liam's arm, ignoring his beta's whimper of pain - it would be over in a moment.

"Get your hands off him!" Mason yelled, drawing the attention of Coach as he was passing.

"McCall! What are you doing to Dunbar?" Finstock asked, hand firm on Scott's shoulder.

"I... I was just... trying to prove a point," Scott said, letting go of Liam like he'd been scalded.

Liam bit his lip, trying not to whimper again in pain, cradling his bruised arm against his chest. _The bruises weren't fading_ , Scott realised with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"What point was that, McCall? That physical abuse is acceptable form athletic discipline?" Finstock asked, voice firm and angry, his grip on Scott's shoulder almost as tight as the one he'd had on Liam's arm.

"No, Coach. I was - "

"I don't care what your excuse is, McCall, this is seriously shitty behaviour, especially coming from you. Principal's office, now," Finstock said, escorting Scott up to the principal's office.

"You okay, Liam?" Mason asked quietly, taking his uninjured arm's hand and guiding him away from the rest of the school while they were all preoccupied with watching Scott being marched away instead.

Liam stared at their hands, his aching arm forgotten for the moment. Mason looked a little sheepish when he noticed Liam looking, but he didn't let go yet.

"This okay?" Mason asked, and Liam nodded quickly, grinning.

His grin barely slipped, even though his fast nod made his shoulder move and his arm ache in response.

"Yeah, it's good. C'mon, I've got to get to the nurse's office, that really hurt," Liam said with a slight frown.

"Can't believe _Scott McCall_ did that to you. He always seemed so nice. Maybe finals pressure has made him snap or something," Mason mused as they headed up to the nurse's office hand in hand.

"He was acting really weird," Liam agreed, shaking his head.

They were the talk of the afternoon, and the stories told at the school ranged from Scott actually breaking Liam's arm and Mason fighting him off to Scott going insane and trying to break Liam's arm.

Liam and Mason didn't stray far from the other for the whole day, and Mason kept an arm curled around Liam protectively when people tried to get in close to look at his bandaged arm. Liam flushed bright red at the attention, but being beside Mason helped calm him, and he didn't feel as overwhelmed as he might have last year.

...

To say that Scott was in a bad mood by the time he started at the vet clinic that afternoon was an understatement. He'd been put on probation, come very close to being suspended, and was being benched for at least the next three lacrosse games. The only reason he hadn't been put under house arrest immediately by his mother was because he had a job to get to, and Deaton was out of town.

Hoping that some time with the puppies would calm him down, Scott headed straight to the back of the clinic where his puppy therapy awaited. The puppies clambered onto him eagerly, licking and happy to see him, and Scott petted them gently, letting out a red-eyed growl when one of the puppies growled at him playfully.

The front door bell tinkled loudly, pulling Scott away from the puppies, and he called out to the customer that he'd be with them in a moment, hurrying to put the puppies back in their kennels. Wiping his hands on his jeans, Scott went to the front, and suddenly wished he hadn't heard the bell. Mrs. Murray was renown for being difficult, and her Doberman still terrified Scott despite his Alpha status.

"Ah, there you are. You've kept me waiting. Where is Dr. Deaton?" Mrs. Murray asked expectantly.

"He's out of town for a conference, and won't be back until Wednesday morning," Scott replied, hoping like hell that Mrs. Murray would go and come back when Deaton was available.

"Well, I have to go overseas early tomorrow morning, and the kennel on Marker Road is full, so I suppose there's nothing else for it. Artemis, you behave yourself. There's a good boy. And you, if I come back on Wednesday and my Artie is upset like he was last time, I will ensure that you are fired. Permanently."

"Yes, Mrs. Murray. Thank you for your business, Mrs. Murray. I'll take good care of Artie... Artemis," he corrected quickly when Mrs. Murray lifted her eyebrow and Artemis let out a growl.

She sniffed slightly in response, turned and left, Scott holding Artemis' leash carefully.

"Okay. It's okay. No need to freak out. I'm the True Alpha, I can totally do this," Scott murmured to himself. "Come on Artemis, let's go through to the back," he called, heading in that direction, only to almost fall over when the Doberman refused to move.

After much cajoling, pulling, and one attempt at pushing, Scott finally had Artemis in his kennel for the night, and sat in the middle of the kennel area, panting in exertion himself. The door bell tinkled again, but before Scott could call out, the dogs all started barking eagerly at once, even the old deaf English sheepdog that couldn't hear Scott calling from a few metres away and definitely should not have heard the tiny bell.

"Oh, look at them all! They're so cute!"

"We're not here for a puppy, Stiles."

"I know, I know. But they're still cute."

"Sure, if you like slobbering balls of fluff that leave hair on every surface possible."

"Hey, I still like you, Der."

"Funny."

Scott clenched his fists, determined to fight to the end if that's what Stiles and Derek had come for.

"Whoa, that's a nice way to greet your best friend, Scotty!"

"What do you two want?" Scott demanded, glaring at them.

"Just came by for a visit," Stiles said with a shrug.

"We wanted to see if you'd stopped your ridiculous crusade against us," Derek added.

"Never! I'm not letting you destroy everything!" Scott said firmly, still glaring. "I don't know what you've done to the others, but you're not going to change my mind! I'll fight you 'til the end. I'll get an army, and I'll stop you from destroying the world."

In the cage beside him, Artemis growled low and deep, a threatening growl that made Scott flinch.

"A whole army against lil' ol' us? Aw, you shouldn't have!"

"You're not going to get away with this. People will stand with me, they'll fight with me. We deserve to live!" Scott said hotly.

" _So did we!_ " Stiles snarled.

"Zbee, calm down," Derek murmured, winding an arm around his waist.

"Why did you come here?" Scott asked, hands still curled into fists, and his clawed fingers sharp against his palms.

"We came to see if you would accept an offer, but obviously, talking to you isn't worth our time," Derek added with a slight glare.

"An offer? What could you possibly offer me other than letting the world live?"

"Ever since you've been bitten, all you've said is that you want to be normal again. You saw Liam today, didn't you?" Stiles added.

"So, what, I accept your offer to become normal and don't retaliate against you, is that it? I become normal just in time to be killed in a global homicide?"

"It's an offer to give you what you've wanted, the life you want to live while you still can. I thought you'd be happy to be normal again," Stiles replied.

"No, it wouldn't make me happy, Stiles. Nothing you can offer would ever make me happy because in the end, I'm still going to die!"

Stiles and Derek both frowned at Scott's outburst.

"But, Scott, you're going to die anyway. You're a werewolf, you're not immortal. You won't live forever, you do know that, don't you?"

"Of course I know that! But I'd leave some sort of legacy behind!"

"Oh, of course," Derek murmured, looking almost amused at Scott's response. "You don't want to be normal, you want to be _special_. You want people to remember your name, remember what you've given to them, don't you? There's no way you'd be able to achieve that if you were _normal_ ; no, that's the destiny of a True Alpha."

Stiles looked at Scott, frowning as if he'd never seen him before, and then shook his head. "You were right, Dor. He's never going to accept. Let's go home and we'll set up the telescope."

"You mean, I'll set it up because you'll get frustrated with the instructions."

"Instructions shouldn't be written in such small writing," Stiles groused.

Derek rolled his eyes, then looked to Scott. "Last chance, Scott. You won't be given another."

"I won't need another chance, I'm going to kill both of you," Scott snarled, full of righteous anger and indignation.

Stiles laughed at that, and over his laughter, Scott heard the kennels' locks unlatching. Before he could do anything, the dogs all walked out of the kennels calmly, gathering around Stiles and Derek, barking eagerly. Even Artemis was acting like an overjoyed puppy at their presence, and Scott couldn't believe that they were able to draw such a response from the animals when they were going to destroy the earth.

"Please, Der-bear? _Please?_ " Stiles asked, eyes wide.

"Fine, but you're cleaning up after it," Derek muttered.

Stiles let out a noise of delight, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck and kissing him firmly. "You're getting so many blow jobs later."

Still confused as to what was going on, Scott moved forward, worried about the fate of the dogs who were still barking for Stiles and Derek's attention. He couldn't get far, because when Scott reached the edge of the kennels, he was held back by a wall of blue light. It reminded him of a mountain ash barrier, and he let out a growl, trying to push his way through it as he had before, but the light held him back and it _burned_.

"Come on, Artemis, that's a good boy," Stiles cooed, kneeling down to pet the docile Doberman. "Aren't you such a good dog? Yes, you are. Derek, tell Artemis he's a good boy."

Derek sighed and shook his head, and the Doberman let out a small pitiful whine. "You are a good boy, Artemis. Very good. You'll help me look after Zbee, won't you?" he added firmly.

Artemis let out a bark of affirmation, rubbing up against Stiles' cheek.

"He likes scenting me too, Dor. He's perfect," Stiles said, grinning as he continued to pet the large dog.

"I already agreed, Stiles. Take him before I change my mind; I'll get the others sorted," Derek added.

Stiles stood up and nodded, brushing his lips up against Derek's before he headed out with the Doberman trotting along peacefully beside him. Derek pet the rest of the remaining dogs, guiding them back to the blue light and their kennels. The dogs passed through the lit barrier without a problem, and despite hitting it over and over, Scott was still stuck. When the last of the dogs had returned to their kennels, the locks all closed once more.

"We're taking a few bags of dog food. I'll leave the money on the counter," Derek called, holding up a wad of green notes before heading back into the clinic.

It was only when Scott could no longer hear their car that the barrier disappeared, and he ran into the clinic to find that almost an entire pallet of dog food had been taken. Artemis was no where in sight, and he couldn't even catch the scent of the Doberman anywhere around the clinic.

Artemis had been stolen _right in front of him!_ Deaton was going to fire him, and Mrs. Murray was probably going to kill him.

Scott sighed, wondering if he could report a dog stolen and if anyone at the police station would actually believe his story. His eyes widened, and he took his phone out to call the Sheriff. The Sheriff would believe him; _he'd have to!_

...

End of the fifth chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff had received a call from a somewhat distressed Scott McCall earlier in the day. It was night now, and he could see the stars overhead as he headed from the police station to his cruiser. He had promised Scott that he would look into the stolen dog, and promptly texted Stiles to let him know that he would be at the loft that night for dinner. Stiles had replied almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for his message, and while he hadn't sounded ashamed or remorseful, even by text, Stiles had mentioned that he and Derek now had a dog.

The Sheriff had received a call from a somewhat distressed Scott McCall earlier in the day. It was night now, and he could see the stars overhead as he headed from the police station to his cruiser. He had promised Scott that he would look into the stolen dog, and promptly texted Stiles to let him know that he would be at the loft that night for dinner. Stiles had replied almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for his message, and while he hadn't sounded ashamed or remorseful, even by text, Stiles had mentioned that he and Derek now had a dog.

As John pulled up to Derek's apartment building, he wondered if Stiles could even feel remorse or shame anymore. Then he laughed, because when had Stiles ever shown remorse or shame? Even when he was younger and had been caught trying to shave their neighbour's cat, Stiles had only shown confusion at their response. Claudia had explained that what he had done was wrong, and Stiles had simply said he wouldn't do it again. A tiny little man, with words and eyes that were bigger and older than he was, and how had John never realised what he was before?

He sighed, getting out of the cruiser and headed up to the loft space. John was greeted at the door by Derek and a dog that was far too tall to be a normal dog.

"Artemis, say hi to Pops," Stiles called from the dining area.

Artemis barked, looking pleased with himself.

"Uh. Hello, Artemis," John said in response because he didn't want to be rude, and a dog had just barked at him on command.

"I'm assuming dinner tonight isn't purely a social visit?" Derek asked, scratching Artemis' head gently as he led John and the Doberman towards the table.

Artemis moved to lie down between Stiles and Derek's chairs without a word of command. John tried not to stare, and pretended to be interested in the table setting instead. He moved to sit opposite Stiles and Derek, suddenly feeling as though he was facing an interrogation.

"No, it's not, son. I received a call from Scott earlier this evening. He was very distressed, saying that you and Stiles had stolen one of his client's dogs? A large black Doberman by the name of Artemis?" John added pointedly, glancing over their shoulders where he could see Artemis' tail wagging contently.

"Well, we weren't going to change his name. He likes being called the name of a mythical hunter. Huntress," Stiles corrected himself at Artemis' slight whine.

"What did Scott's client say?" Derek asked curiously. "You called her to verify his story?"

John coughed slightly, rubbed the back of his head, and then nodded. "That's where it gets a little weird. Mrs. Murray claims she's never owned a Doberman, and her Pomeranian's safe at the kennel on Marker Road. I called with them to check, and they've been caring for Apollo since Monday afternoon."

Stiles smirked at that. "Told you they'd believe it, Der-bear."

"It was risky doing it a day before," Derek replied a little tersely.

"Humans always fill the gaps themselves," Stiles retorted, shrugging.

"So, let me get this straight. You really did steal Mrs. Murray's dog? But then you gave her another dog and made her believe she'd never owned the one you stole? Why bother giving her another dog at all?"

"Too much work to get rid of all of the dog-related stuff in her house. Besides, we weren't just going to steal some old woman's dog and leave it at that! Geez, Pops, who do you take me for?" Stiles asked.

"The same person who refused to clean up his room unless I paid you per square inch."

Stiles snickered at that response, and grinned at John broadly. "You're the one that actually paid me."

"You should see what I have to pay him with to get him to do any chores now," Derek muttered, not quite under his breath.

Stiles laughed outright at that, pressing a loud smacking kiss to Derek's cheek. "Nah, Dor, trust me; Pops doesn't want to know about how you pay me."

"You're not taking advantage of him, are you?" John asked suddenly, looking between the two of them.

"No, sir. Not doing anything that we both haven't agreed to in the first place," Derek said quickly, actually blushing.

"I was talking to Stiles, son," John replied.

"No one's taking advantage of anyone, Pops. Promise," Stiles added, taking Derek's hand in his own and threading their fingers together.

John looked between them for a moment longer, trying to determine that they were telling the truth. Derek no longer looked quite so flushed, and Stiles simply looked amused.

"Fine. What's for dinner?" John asked, looking towards the dark kitchen.

"We ordered Chinese. It should be here soon," Stiles said.

Almost on cue, Derek looked towards the window and stood up a second later. Artemis lifted his head with a soft whine and Derek tapped his fingers on his thigh twice, Artemis standing and following Derek out of the loft easily.

"You've trained Artemis surprisingly fast since you've only had a few hours with him," John murmured.

"Dor's good with dogs. Always has been good with animals, both here and elsewhere."

"Your elsewhere is your home planet, isn't it?"

"Universe, actually. It's more vast than one planet alone, and we were able to travel to other planets freely, unlike here. Though, we did that for a reason," Stiles muttered, low enough that John almost didn't hear him.

"Do you have parents? Real parents, I mean? Back in your universe."

"Kinda," Stiles said with a slight frown, rubbing the back of his head as he thought about how to explain it. "We were... The universe we came from was more interested in science than emotion, and we were born purely for the advancement of our race. There are scheduled times for procreation, and once we're born, most are left to the care of others to help us grow and learn. There was nothing wrong with that kind of upbringing, it worked for us and our race, but... Well, for me, at least, it always felt as though something was missing."

"There's a reason that we say _we escaped_ our universe rather than _we left_ ," Derek added as he returned with their food, Artemis following him quietly.

Stiles gave a brief shrug. "Unconditional love is something we've only ever experienced with each other - "

"Even when Zbee is annoying," Derek added, grinning.

"Or when Dor's a grumpy sourwolf," Stiles retorted, rolling his eyes. "But we been fortunate enough to have some measure of that kind of love in our parents here on Earth. You remind me of Bogumił," he added with a soft smile.

Derek took Stiles' hand in his, stroking gently. John stared at them for a moment, remembering all the times he'd done something similar to Claudia over the years.

"Baw-who?" John asked, confused.

" _Baw-guw-meew_ ," Stiles pronounced, grinning when he saw John mouthing over the syllables silently. "Bogumił was my father when I was first in this form. He was beaten to death by the same men who killed Dorek and me."

"Not a topic for dinner with your father, Stiles," Derek murmured, handing him a box of kung pao chicken.

"I want to know," John said suddenly, even surprising himself. He wanted to know about this man that had raised Stiles the first time, wanted to know how alike they were, just what this other man would have done to keep Stiles safe. "But maybe after dinner?" he suggested.

Stiles gave a nod, chopsticks already working to shovel food into his mouth.

"Chow mein for you, Sheriff," Derek said, offering the box to him.

"Thanks, son. Egg rolls?"

Stiles immediately snatched the small bag of egg rolls and glared at both of them with a mouthful of food. "No egg rolls for you, old man," he said after he'd swallowed his food.

"Why not?"

"You always douse them in chilli sauce! It'll give you a heart attack one of these days," Stiles muttered, holding the bag closer and somehow still managing to eat his food at the same time.

"I'm going to die sooner or later, Stiles. Give me the egg rolls," John said, holding a hand out for them.

Derek rolled his eyes, snatched the bag out of Stiles' grip and handed them to John, who looked both surprised and pleased at the same time. Stiles glowered at Derek for his betrayal, but he just shrugged in return.

"He's right," Derek said, eating his moo shu pork calmly, despite Stiles' glare.

"Just because Dor is trying to butter you up, it doesn't mean this kind of eating can continue, got it, old man?" Stiles said, waving his chopsticks at his food.

John just grinned and grabbed the bottle of chilli sauce for his egg rolls.

"So not getting sex tonight, you bastard," Stiles muttered to Derek, not quite quiet enough and John focused on his chilli sauce determinedly.

"Like you've ever gone through with denying either of us sex," Derek muttered back, cheeks going pink as he flicked his gaze over to the Sheriff.

"I didn't know you were interested in astronomy. I suppose that's sort of a given, being gods and all?" John said, a little louder than he meant.

"We're looking at black holes, actually," Derek answered. "But you're right, astronomy for us is kind of a given."

"I got in so many jokes about gas in the first thousand years," Stiles added with a wistful sigh.

"The Milky Way was made in less time than it took for Zbee to think of a funny joke."

"It's always been difficult to make you laugh, Der-bear. Well, Deidre seemed to think I was funny, but then, she also smiled a lot more than you," Stiles murmured, poking Derek's cheek with his chopstick.

"Who's Deidre?" John asked, confused and curious. It seemed to be a common combination lately, especially where his son was concerned.

"Derek's previous incarnation. She was also killed by people hunting us. They tortured her first, but that's another topic that's not suitable for dinner," Stiles quipped, though his tone was laced with sarcasm.

If John hadn't been looking directly at Stiles, he would have missed the expression of pure distraught that crossed his son's face. The emotion was similar to the one he'd felt in the days, weeks, months following Claudia's death, and it was something that made John want to go out and hurt someone for hurting his son like that.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here now, we're together. It'll all be okay," Derek murmured, ignoring the Sheriff completely as he pulled Stiles off his seat and onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him firmly.

"Not the point, Dor," Stiles mumbled, burying his face against his chest. "Dee was better than I ever was, and they... they _hurt_ her, Dor. They hurt you, they **keep** hurting you, over and over. I just want to be with you, is that too much to ask?"

"No. No, it's not," John said, his voice firm and angrier than he expected.

He had meant to stay silent, to give them this moment alone, but he just _couldn't_. They had both been hurt so many times, and for as long as they had been present on Earth. It wasn't fair, any of it, and John didn't care if the whole world died tomorrow if his boy could just find a moment of peace with the person he loved more than anyone else. It was all anyone ever deserved: to be happy and at peace, and unfortunately, the Sheriff knew all too well how rare it was to achieve that.

Stiles sniffed, quickly wiping his nose on the back of sleeve, and slid off Derek's lap to his own seat again. They all ate quietly for a few more minutes, and behind Stiles and Derek, Artemis stood up and made his way over to the Sheriff. He was almost as tall as John when he was sitting down, but the Doberman simply rested his head on the Sheriff's lap, giving a soft whine.

"Uh, can I?" John asked, helpless to the poor dog.

"Egg roll without chilli," Derek said, grinning.

"You feed him, you'll have his loyalty for life," Stiles said, looking a bit perkier now.

"However long that is," John murmured, taking the last egg roll and offering it to Artemis.

He was rewarded with a happy bark and a hand full of dog saliva for his trouble, but didn't mind at all, wiping his hand off on his napkin before scratching Artemis behind the ears, chuckling when the dog's tongue lolled out.

"Are you upset?" Stiles asked.

"Hmm? About what?" John asked.

"Y'know, impending destruction of humanity?"

John stopped scratching Artemis, withdrawing his hand as he looked at Stiles and Derek. Artemis gave a soft whine and put his head back on John's lap, trying to nudge his wet nose under John's hand. He petted Artemis absent-mindedly, thinking about Stiles' question for a moment longer.

"We're all going to die eventually. I suppose that's just something people say to make themselves feel better about the idea of death, and I doubt anyone truly thinks that we'll all die at the same time, so they all think they'll have something to continue beyond them. But... I think I understand why you're doing this. I'm sure I'll understand more after dinner and your explanations, but for now, I've lived my life, and I know too much about this world - and the supernatural one - to think that it will end if you simply get revenge on one person, or group of people. I've seen the best and worst of people, and no matter what the movies and TV shows say, when people are faced with their own mortality, they will do whatever it takes to avoid dying. People will panic, there will be mass hysteria, and it won't be pretty. If you do plan on leaving anyone alive after what you intend to do, they'll probably revert back to the old times were gods were worshipped and people were sacrificed."

"We never asked for those sacrifices, nor wanted them. Absolute waste of life at the hands of men who thought they were more important than they were," Derek muttered.

"Humans have always believed themselves to be more important than they are," Stiles agreed.

"What will you do when we're all dead?" John asked.

"Start over, let nature take back the earth. It's been completely decimated in some places, other countries have huge craters in them, and there are entire ecosystems that have been destroyed for no good reason," Derek said, shaking his head with a sigh.

"Mining is actually one of the dumber things you've all done, you realise that, don't you? You're disrupting the earth's interior, which is the thing _holding you up_ , by the way - and if you dig far enough, which you will because your greed outweighs all common sense, apparently - you'll eventually just collapse in on yourselves. It's sheer stupidity, thinking that you can control nature like that. I mean, that'll only happen if you keep going at the rate you're all going at now. But until then, you've still got erosion, sinkholes, destroying the biodiversity, and contaminating the soil with all the crap you use to clear the land. Like, seriously, I don't get your thought processes! Who the hell looks at the ground they're _standing on_ and thinks 'I'm going to start digging right here at my feet and nothing could possibly go wrong'?! We should've taken away your ability to procreate when you created the concept of money," Stiles groaned.

"Money is the way the world works," John said with a brief shrug.

"No, it's not. It works nothing but the inflated egos of men! You created money, the cost of living, and all of that other economic crap! In the beginning, people were absolutely fine trading each other for things, no money involved! Creating money means that you're effectively killing off people who don't have enough money to live in your supposed first world. You don't have money, you don't eat, you fucking starve to death, and apparently people think that that's a perfectly acceptable way to live! Do you not _see_ the world you live in? You're killing each other even if you're not at war."

John was taken aback at the passion in his son's voice, the tinge of desperation and plea for understanding that came through, the revulsion he felt rolling through his stomach as his words hit home.

"I don't... I've never really thought of it like that before."

"Yeah, I know. It's sitting right there on your doorstep but you don't see it when you look out the peephole."

"That's a dumb analogy, Stiles," Derek said, laughing.

"Oh, shut up, it's all I could think of."

"Are you doing anything about it?" John asked, looking between them. "There're people out there, living on the streets, and you're gods, aren't you? Can't you make a building for them, give them money, something?"

"We could make a building, sure, but there's no way that any local government or council would let them live in it without prosecution. Buildings don't just appear overnight, they would be considered squatters, and would probably be evacuated or imprisoned for trespassing. As to the money: that's not something that we created, and we don't really have a way to make it, especially without the machines on hand. If we tried now, it would look like a cheap counterfeit job at best. Could you imagine any shop owner's response when someone who looks homeless walks in with a wad of cash? You'd be getting calls at the station within minutes."

"Anything that we'd try would just be met head-on with human stupidity and stubbornness. There would be accusations of stealing, not acceptance of a miracle or something. It's too far from Christmas for that kind of thing to be believed anyway," Derek said with a derisive snort.

John sighed heavily, and Artemis whined and licked his hand, sensing his emotion.

"Let's add that to the list of topics not to be discussed at dinner," Stiles groaned, putting his head in his hands. "Didn't mean to depress you, Dad. Maybe we should leave Deidre's story for another day?"

"No, no, it's all right. I still want to hear it," John replied firmly.

"Let's move to the lounge area then. I'll get you a beer; you might need it for this."

"Just the one, I'll be driving home later. Wouldn't do for the Sheriff to be pulled over for drink driving," John said, trying to lighten the atmosphere, however briefly that relief was.

"We'll make sure you're sober before you head off, Dad; don't worry about that," Stiles promised, clapping John on the back before leading him over to the lounge as Derek cleared the Chinese boxes and chopsticks.

Artemis followed after John and Stiles, moving so he was sitting in front of John's feet, heavy and warm against his feet. He grinned, leaning forward to pat Artemis, rubbing behind his ears before sitting back and waiting for Stiles and Derek to tell their story.

...

Scott had been pacing all afternoon, waiting for a call from the Sheriff, from Mrs. Murray, from Deaton. So far, he hadn't heard a thing, and he had literally worn a hole in his carpet. He'd thought that was just an old wives' tale, but apparently not. He vaguely heard a car pull up to their house and his mother answer the door, but was still worrying about the possibility of being fired and didn't focus in on the sound.

"Scott? You still up there?" Melissa called.

"Yes!" Scott called back, quickly moving to stand on top of the worn spot on the carpet.

"Sheriff's here for you."

Scott's eyes widened, and he rushed downstairs, almost falling down the bottom two steps in his hurry.

"Don't fall down the stairs again, Scott. I don't want to have to reset your broken arm again, werewolf healing or not," Melissa said pointedly.

"Sorry. Sheriff, you're here! Did you see them? What did they say? Did they have Artemis?"

"What's going on?" Melissa asked, frowning as she looked between her son and her ... Sheriff.

"Stiles and Derek are gods, and they stole one of the dogs from my work," Scott answered absent-mindedly, waiting for the Sheriff's response.

"Wait, what?! John, is he kidding? Oh, god, he's not kidding. I... Gods, really? When did this happen?" Melissa asked weakly.

"Mum, I'll explain later! What did they say, Sheriff?"

"Don't take that tone with your mother, you know it's a shock to find out about them, Scott. Melissa, I'll answer all of your questions in a minute. Go sit down, I'll be in there soon," the Sheriff said kindly, guiding her towards the lounge room door.

Melissa nodded, looking a little dazed, and plonked down on the lounge.

"Well?" Scott asked.

"After you called me, I talked to Mrs. Murray. She claimed that she has never owned a Doberman called Artemis. She has a Pomeranian called Apollo, which is currently staying at the dog kennel on Marker Road. I called them to confirm, Scott, and it's true. Stiles and Derek do have a dog, but as Mrs. Murray doesn't believe it is her dog, there's nothing I can do."

"But they stole him right in front of me!"

"How will you press charges or make a statement about a dog that, for all accounts and purposes, that doesn't belong to you or the person you believe it belongs to?"

Scott frowned slightly, but then he stepped back, jaw dropping. "They got to you, didn't they? They did something, used their magic on you, and you're on their side now, just like the rest of them, aren't you?!"

"Scott, there are no sides to this. The things they've been through - "

"I don't care! I don't care what they've been through, what they're doing is wrong! Why am I the only one to see that?!" Scott yelled, storming out of the house and slamming the door behind him.

"Geez!" Melissa cried out, startled at the noise. "The door's not falling out of the frame again, is it? I could do with not needing to replace something in the house this month," she said, sighing. Then she looked to John, eyes a little wider. "They're really gods? Like, God gods?"

"Yeah, seems like it."

"Does this mean we have to start saying _Oh my Stiles_ instead? 'Cause I don't think I could handle that," Melissa joked, trying to smile.

John laughed, easing her emotions slightly, and moved to sit across from her. "I'll tell you all I can, but it's not pleasant and it's not pretty. Mel, they... They've been through so much, and they still love each other so much. That sort of love, it's - it's nothing like anything we can ever feel here on Earth, they've been together for billions of years, and I see them, and all I can see is my son living with his boyfriend in a loft with a hole in the wall."

"Oh, John... You have to start from the beginning, I'm still trying to wrap my head around the gods part. _Billions_ of years, too?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. That's what I felt like, too." John took a steadying breath, running his hands over his face. "I think I'll give you the short version tonight; I don't want to be out too late. I need to pick up Henry."

"Henry? As in Henry the hobo that sleeps on the bench outside of the hospital?"

"Yeah. I'm not - I won't be able to sleep, knowing he's sleeping out there. I'll explain that too," John added, seeing Melissa's surprised expression.

"I'm all ears," Melissa said, waving for him to start talking.

John sighed, leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, and started explaining everything that had happened since he answered Lydia Martin's phone call begging him to go to a loft on the outskirts of town.

...

Stiles heard Derek and Artemis return from their evening run, but kept his eye on the telescope lens, looking out to the stars they'd created. A few had burned out since they'd first made them, but others had also brightened in their place, a balance between old and new. He moved the telescope slightly, focusing on a black hole. Obviously, the lens itself couldn't see it, but Stiles knew every inch of the universe, and his power helped him see what was happening beyond the scope of the human senses.

"Find something?" Derek asked, filling up Artemis' bowl from his water bottle before taking a swig himself.

"I think they're getting closer," Stiles murmured, frowning slightly as he moved between one and another black hole.

"Think it's a threat?" Derek asked, coming up behind him.

Stiles moved aside slightly, Derek leaning over his body to look through the telescope himself.

"I don't know. Maybe," Stiles answered.

"It's not something we have to deal with tonight, is it?" Derek murmured, pressing hot kisses against Stiles' exposed neck.

"Definitely not," he agreed, grinning.

"Good. Do you know how hard you make me when you get so passionate about something? I almost dragged you away at dinner just to fuck you because you got pissed off about mining."

"Well, it's stupid."

Derek chuckled against his skin, hot and low behind his ear. "I thought we decided that human decisions are stupid overall anyway?"

"Mmm, true. We need to create a smarter race next time," Stiles muttered.

They were silent for a moment, Derek caressing and touching Stiles as they slipped into silence.

"Love you so much, Zbigniew. You're the best thing that ever happened to me," Derek admitted.

"Not hard, considering all the things that have happened to you," Stiles ground out, still angry and annoyed from the memories he'd relived that evening. Then he sighed, and straightened up to turn around in Derek's embrace. "I love you too, Dorek. More than anything."

"I know," Derek murmured with a soft smile, brushing his cheek with the pad of his thumb before cupping his cheek and pulling him in for a kiss.

Stiles returned the kiss, holding Derek's face in his hands, and moving so his body was pressed against his. "Now, we going to keep talking, or are we going to bed?" Stiles asked when they pulled away.

"Bed or _bed?_ " Derek breathed against his cheek as Stiles started to grind against him.

"I said no sex tonight, remember?"

"Hmm, I remember," Derek murmured, holding Stiles' hips to grind back against him.

"Oh, fuck. Okay, sex tonight."

"Mmm, and tomorrow, and the night after, and the one after that, and every other night after that."

"Sex from now until the end of time? Sounds good to me," Stiles said breathily, sucking a mark onto Derek's neck, watching as it faded from sight.

"Same," Derek said, grinning.

"Come on, bed now, and you can fuck me."

"You want me to fuck you tonight?" Derek asked, a little surprised; Stiles usually liked to top when they'd talked about their past lives, as if to remind himself that Derek was really there and not going away again.

"It's a full moon tomorrow, you need it more," Stiles murmured, taking his hand and squeezing it gently.

Derek squeezed back, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before leading Stiles to their bed.

...

End of the sixth chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melissa sat outside of Derek's (and now Stiles', she supposed) building, hands clenching the steering wheel every now and then as she tried to gather enough strength to go talk to the two young men. Well, that wasn't exactly right. According to what John had told her (and Scott later confirmed, however reluctantly), they weren't men, and were sure as hell not young.

Melissa sat outside of Derek's (and now Stiles', she supposed) building, hands clenching the steering wheel every now and then as she tried to gather enough strength to go talk to the two young men. _Well, that wasn't exactly right_. According to what John had told her (and Scott later confirmed, however reluctantly), they weren't men, and were sure as hell not young. Melissa felt her heartbeat pounding against her ribs, and couldn't remember the last time she'd been so nervous; even her marriage to Rafe, or the triple bypass she'd helped perform last year hadn't made her hands sweat or her heart beat quite like this.

Deciding that she should just go, that Stiles and Derek were probably busy and didn't want to talk to her anyway, Melissa went to start her ignition. She could swear there was something she'd forgotten to do, anyway. Before she could turn the key, Melissa saw something dark in the corner of her eye and let out a yelp of surprise when she saw that Stiles and Derek were standing there beside her car, both of them looking at her curiously.

"You coming in?"

"Stiles, manners," Derek muttered, nudging him.

"Right, sorry. Would you like to come inside, Melissa, or would you prefer to sit in the car for another fifteen minutes?" Stiles asked.

He was smirking at her with that same smug little smile he'd always seemed to have when he was younger and knew he'd been doing something wrong but couldn't be punished for the crime. Oddly enough, it was that expression that calmed Melissa's nerves enough to nod and follow them out of her car and up to their loft. A large Doberman walked beside them, and she was introduced to Artemis while they were in the elevator. Artemis sniffed at her hands, and Melissa let herself pat him to calm down; Scott wasn't the only one good with animals.

"Would you like something to drink, Melissa?" Derek offered, holding the door open for her to enter first.

"What do you have?" Melissa asked, walking in with Artemis beside her.

"I think there's still some apple juice left in the fridge," Derek replied.

"I drank that this morning, actually. I didn't know you'd be over, otherwise I would've left it," Stiles added quickly.

"Never mind, boys, I'll just have a water; besides, I know you drink from the carton, Stiles," Melissa added.

Stiles laughed and grinned at her. "Tastes better. I'll get you your water," he added, heading to the kitchen.

"Would you prefer to talk in the dining area or the lounge?" Derek asked, smiling at her.

Melissa shook her head, curls flying. "Wherever you two are most comfortable. I didn't want to come here to impose on you."

"You'd never do that to us, Melissa. We're happy to see you," Derek said, leading her to the lounge room.

Artemis climbed up onto the lounge, barely leaving enough room for someone to sit next to him, but Derek gave a soft command and the Doberman moved so a full seat was clear. Melissa sat down, and Artemis nudged at her for a pat. She indulged the sweet dog with a smile, and Artemis closed his eyes happily. Melissa looked up from the dog when Stiles walked in carrying two glasses of water, a third floating in front of him.

 _Floating._ _Actually in the air, nothing holding it up, floating. Oh, wow_. Melissa stared at the hovering glass, accepting the one Stiles offered to her with trembling hands.

"You need to breathe, Melissa," Derek said, looking concerned on the armchair across from her seat on the lounge.

Artemis whined slightly in concern, and Melissa resumed patting him with one hand, her other hand holding the glass and trembling. Stiles sat on Derek's lap, the werewolf ( _werewolf god, was that a thing now?_ ) wrapping his arms around him automatically. Melissa was surprised at how calm they seemed to be together, and Stiles didn't seem to fidget as much as he usually did. She took a deep breath, and drank half of her water in a long gulp.

"So it's really true. You're actual gods, creators of this _whole_ universe, and you're going to kill us all?"

"Yes, yes, and yes," Stiles answered without hesitation. "Although, I take credit for the better parts of the universe."

"Right, of course..." Melissa said, albeit weakly. "And the whole 'killing everyone' that's what, admittance of our failure? Did we fail some sort of test, and we're all going to be killed for it?"

"There was no test, Melissa, but to be honest, if there was: you all would have failed. Our earth is being destroyed beyond mortal repair, the amount of killing that is done in some man-made god's name - and not just in wars - is going to leave your entire species decimated. You're killing yourselves faster than you can procreate."

Melissa wasn't entirely sure she could argue that; she'd seen more deaths than she would have liked, and that was even before she was pulled into the supernatural world by her werewolf son.

"What about the children? They're innocents in all of this."

"What, you'd prefer for us to just kill off all of the adults of the world? Leave a bunch of babies and kids alive with no way to survive or defend themselves? They wouldn't survive a week, let alone to adulthood, and even if they did, they'd still grow with the same prejudices that their parents are already drumming into them before they can even walk!"

Derek's arms tightened around Stiles' waist firmly, and Melissa wondered if he was holding him back for Stiles' sake or hers. Artemis whined slightly, and she could see that he was asleep, but was still somehow responding to the mood that was practically leaking from Stiles and Derek.

"Surely there's something you can do? They're _children_ ," Melissa stressed.

"So were we, and we were still killed," Stiles snarled, and Derek's eyes shifted to blue before he nuzzles against Stiles' neck, hopefully calming both of them.

"When?" Melissa asked, confused and surprised; they were sitting right in front of her, adults now, and she definitely didn't remember them being killed as children.

"Once I returned Derek's power to him, it unlocked our memories. We remember every life we've ever lived on this planet," Stiles trailed off, jaw clenching.

"We were five years old. We were still working on controlling our power on this plane of existence, and it came to us earlier than intended. The blue light we were wrapped in frightened the villagers, and humans have a tendency to want to destroy what they don't understand. Our parents were killed trying to save us, trying to protect us. They loved us, they knew that we were there for good, but they couldn't convince the others of the same," Derek said, claws elongated and resting against Stiles' stomach.

Stiles didn't even look the tiniest bit worried considering Derek's hands were on one of the most vulnerable parts of his body.

"Once they'd killed our parents, they killed us. They weren't quick or merciful about it, either. Derek had a fear of water that was known by all of the villagers, so they drowned him. It was to appease the gods, his sacrifice, and they didn't even have the decency to do it as a proper ritual. Of course, it was nearing winter at that time, so the water was freezing as well, and he screamed so loud. They drowned him over a space of hours, pulling him out of the water, telling him that he would be with the gods soon, only to hold him under again until his lungs couldn't take it anymore and he died. When they pulled him out of the water, his body was just as blue as our power."

"How do you - " Melissa paused to take a breath, her mouth dry, and sipped at her water. "How do you know all of that, Stiles?"

"They made me watch. Five years old, and it took three men to hold me down. They bound me to a plank of wood and made me watch as they killed my best friend in front of me. Then, when he'd died and couldn't talk for screaming, they turned on me."

Derek's hold tightened on Stiles again, this time to provide comfort, and Stiles moved so that his head was buried against Derek's shoulder.

"Stiles was fearless at that age, nothing frightened him, and they took it as a sign of strength, especially when it took three men to hold him down. They weren't as lenient with Stiles as they had been with me," Derek said.

"That was _lenient?_ " Melissa asked, almost choking on her water.

Artemis' head shifted in her lap, but he continued to sleep on, blissfully unaware to the conversation happening around him.

"Considering what they did to Stiles, it was almost kind," Derek answered, caressing Stiles' back gently. "They kept him alive for almost four weeks, bleeding him dry and using his blood in sacrificial rituals. Their warriors drank his blood to health and honour and victory. Farmers used his blood on altars to their gods for good crops and pleasant weather. Pregnant women used his blood in hopes of gaining sons and daughters as strong as he was. The whole town used every drop of blood within him until Stiles could stop the flow entirely."

"Stop the flow? You - you killed yourself?" Melissa asked in horror.

"I had to. They weren't killing me, they were going to leave me to grow so they could use me and my blood until they no longer had use for me. I stopped my own heart from pumping blood, and as I was dying, a local - let's say priest, for lack of a better word - decided that I wasn't providing enough blood for the town. I won't describe what he did, but let's just say, I died with a lot less blood in my body than out of it."

Melissa felt sick, her stomach churning, and she didn't know if she needed a bucket, air, or something stronger than water to forget this entire thing.

"Surely we've progressed beyond that and those times? We wouldn't kill or sacrifice you if we knew the truth, would we? It's the 21st century!"

Stiles' laughter is a chilling sound, and Melissa shuddered as the sound seemed to reverberate within her.

"You lot have been killing each other because of _gender_ or _skin colour_ or _religion_ or just for the things you _say_ or _do_ or _think_ ; what do you _honestly_ think would happen if people knew about us? You refuse to stop killing yourselves, and if you knew about us, we'd just be killed all over again! Then, once we're dead again, you'd just go back to killing each other for no fucking reason. At this rate, we won't even have to do anything: you'll do it all for us!"

"Then why bother?"

"Because we're trying to protect our planet from being ruined in the process. We might be able to salvage what's left if we get rid of the fucking human disease that's destroying our beautiful planet."

Melissa sighed, resignation filling her because she knew that she wouldn't be able to sway their decision, and she couldn't bring herself to disagree with their arguments either.

"Scott... He refuses to listen, he will fight you on this. He believes that the human race is worth saving, and he won't stop until either you're dead or he is," Melissa said; her son could be just as pigheaded and stubborn as his father sometimes. "He's scared, scared to die, scared to lose everything, and he's still so young, I just want," she trailed off, not even sure what she wanted to say.

"You want us to spare him, is that it?" Derek asked, a low growl filtering out between his teeth.

"I honestly don't know. I don't know if I can ask that of you, if you'll agree, or if he'll be worth saving. He's my child and I love him, but that doesn't mean he's without his faults. Sometimes, Scott..." Melissa sighed here, rubbing a hand over her face. "He doesn't always listen to other people, and it can have negative consequences."

"You're telling me," Stiles muttered. "Allison told him she didn't want to be with him anymore, she said 'no, we're not getting back together' like a hundred times before leaving for France with her dad, and all Scott did that summer was turn into Scott 2.0 so he could impress Allison and convince her to get back with him again. He kept saying it was fate, destiny, and refused to listen to common sense or what she was actually telling him."

"This is going to be like that all over again, isn't it?" Derek muttered against Stiles' shoulder.

"Probably. It'd be easier if he just accepted that we're not caving on this, no matter what army he intends to get for us. Why can't he just enjoy the time he has left? Hell, get a ten year loan, go on a cruise, and never have to pay it back again," Stiles snickered.

"That's not how loans work, and you know it," Derek said, rolling his eyes. He turned to look at Melissa, who was politely drinking her refilled glass and pretending not to look so amused at their interactions. "Would you like to stay for dinner? We're having pizza."

Artemis woke up at the word 'dinner', bounded off the lounge and stood beside Stiles and Derek in a matter of seconds, eager to be fed. Melissa kind of missed his solid presence beside her, and wiped her hands off on her pants.

"You'll get fed too, Artemis, don't worry. Pizza for us means Derek will be having three pizzas, and I'll eat half of one before collapsing into a food coma while Derek eats the other half and pretends that he didn't."

Melissa laughed a bit at that, thankful that the heavy atmosphere had lightened somewhat. "Do I want to know what happens to the garlic bread?"

"I can barely eat three pieces before Dor tries to steal the whole stick."

"Liar," Derek muttered, nipping at his neck. "Zbee always fills up on garlic bread, which is why he has the food coma after only half a pizza."

" _Only_ half a pizza?! You realise we get the huge family size ones? The slices are bigger than my forearm!"

"I might skip the offer of pizza; it sounds like I might lose my hand trying to get a slice," Melissa said, grinning. Her grin slipped as she looked at her watch and saw that Scott would be home soon. "I'll talk with Scott, see if I can make him see sense."

"It might be too late for that, Melissa. He's already threatened us, refused what we'd offered him, and to be honest, we don't want you to lose him over this - over us. You'd hate it if Scott refused to talk to you. You're still his mother," Derek said.

"That doesn't mean I can't see my own son for what he is," Melissa started to argue, then frowned slightly. "What did you offer him?"

"To make him normal again. We did the same with Liam, and since all Scott's ever said since he's been bit is that he wants to be a normal teenager, we thought he'd jump at the chance. He didn't take the offer very well."

"Jumped down our throats, more like," Stiles muttered.

Artemis crouched low and gave a snarl.

"Calm down, boy. I'm not in any danger. Stop making Artemis upset," Stiles said, elbowing Derek.

"It's not me," Derek replied, frowning.

The buzzer started beeping loudly, and Artemis' growls grew louder in response.

"What is it? Should I be worried?" Melissa asked, looking between them.

"It's Scott. I... I don't think he's happy that you've come to see us," Derek said reluctantly.

"Mum! Whatever they're telling you, don't listen! They're going to ruin you too!" Scott yelled, running into the loft with his claws and fangs bared.

"Ruin me? Honestly, Scott, we've just been talking," Melissa said, shaking her head at her son.

Artemis moved to stand between them and Scott with another threatening growl. Derek almost smirked when he heard Scott's heart spike in fear.

"That's what they do! They talk to you, and just like everyone else, you believe their lies! Stiles and Derek are twisting everything to make you believe them, to make you **okay** with the fact that we're all going to die!"

"We're all going to die anyway, Scott."

"That's not the point! Just because we're all going to die, it doesn't mean that we all should die at once!"

"Who would you save then? Women, men, children, teenagers, adults, the elderly, black people, white, Hispanic, indigenous, African, Asian? C'mon, Scott, which group's so important to you that you want them saved?"

"All of them! They're all important!"

"So were we. We've been born to nearly every culture, and every time, we've been killed. You will never change because you never have, not in the last 200,000 years. Destruction has always been your first response, and that's not something we want to continue. We want to wipe the slate clean, is that such a bad thing?" Derek asked.

Scott's snarl was the only answer.

"Scott, I'm going now. I'm buying pizza for dinner, and you're either coming with me now, or I'll ground you," Melissa said firmly.

She hadn't had a pleasant day with patients and bedpans (don't ask), Melissa had heard things this afternoon that she doubted she would ever be able to forget, and there was no way on Earth she was going to let her own son start the damn Apocalypse _today_.

"What? Mum - we're... We can't leave..." Scott said, eyes wide.

"We can leave, and we will. If you want Stiles and Derek to end the world right now, then by all means, stay here and do whatever it is you think needs to be done. But if you'd prefer to eat pizza and avoid being grounded, you and I are leaving right now."

Scott looked torn, but after a few moments filled with only Artemis' low growls, the red colour left his eyes and he nodded firmly. "Fine, let's go."

"Watch that tone with me, mister. You might be a True Alpha, but that doesn't mean you can't be Truly Grounded," Melissa said with a warning glare.

Scott just nodded briefly, then stormed out of the loft without another word. Artemis relaxed almost immediately, becoming docile as he moved to lie down on the floor. Melissa sighed, fearing that she might have ostracised her son after all, then turned to Stiles and Derek.

"Don't you two be strangers, all right? I still want to see you around town. Let me know when John's planning the next barbecue."

"It's actually scheduled for next weekend. It'll be a bit smaller than usual, considering Liam and Mason no longer remember us, but we'll be there anyway," Derek said, offering a smile.

"Good, I'll be there too. Thank you for talking to me, boys. I appreciate you spending the time to talk to such a lowly mortal," Melissa said, grinning.

"You're anything but that, Melissa," Stiles admitted, pulling her in for a tight hug.

Derek gave her a brief but firm hug, and after Melissa patted Artemis and said goodbye to the loving Doberman, she left after her wilful son.

"So, pizza?" Stiles asked, grinning at Derek.

"You order and I'll set up the telescope," Derek said in compromise.

Stiles nodded, pressed a firm kiss to his lover's mouth, then stepped away to order their dinner. Artemis whined, nudging his head against Stiles' hip.

"I'll feed you too, Artemis," Stiles promised, grinning as he scratched the large dog behind the ears, watching Derek as he moved across the lounge room to where their telescope was set up.

It didn't take long for Stiles to finish his call and organise Artemis' dinner, then he joined Derek at the telescope, running his hand along the firm muscles of Derek's shoulders.

"How long will the pizza be?" Derek asked, looking away from the stars and up to the much more breathtaking sight of his lover.

"About half an hour. Find where we were up to last night?" Stiles asked, sighing softly as Derek took his hand and pressed light kisses to his knuckles.

"Found it, and there's another one nearby," Derek murmured, tongue flicking out to tease Stiles' skin.

"Do you really think I'm right?" Stiles asked, moving the small seat so Derek was facing him, sitting in his lap and beginning slow rolls of his hips up against Derek's.

Derek bit his lip, breathing in harshly, and kissed Stiles' knuckles once more before he answered. "I think so. No one else knew about your theory. Either way, it's still getting closer, so I'm sure we'd find out sooner or later."

"Should we risk sending a signal?"

This question needed a bit more thought, and Derek rested his head against Stiles' shoulder, thinking through all of the possibilities and possible outcomes.

"Risk it. If you're right, then it will be welcomed. If you're wrong, then we'll go to Plan Z."

Stiles winced. "I'm not too fond of Plan Z."

"That's why it's not Plans A through to Y," Derek said, grinning a bit when Stiles poked his tongue out at him.

Derek grabbed Stiles' hips to still him for a moment, both of them concentrating as their blue power flicked and flamed around their bodies. Closing their eyes, Derek and Stiles concentrated on their signal.

...

Across the world, no matter where they were or what they were doing, twenty Banshees lifted their heads and **_screamed._**

Lydia came back to herself with a slight frown, her throat sore and her head pounding. She'd been in the middle of developing a theory that she was sure would win her the Fields Medal, but then she'd felt the urge to scream. It wasn't anything like she usually felt, this scream wasn't a name, wasn't tainted with death, and instead, it had provided her with a simple understanding of _everything_. In that scream-filled second, the world itself had opened up to her, and she knew exactly what she wanted to focus her theory on. Einstein had worked on the speed of light and while he had a basic theory of how to travel at that speed, nothing had come of it. She would change that, she decided, pulling a notepad towards her and starting to write.

At home, Scott still sullen despite eating his favourite pizza (two for him, along with two and a half garlic bread sticks), Melissa sighed contentedly now that she'd eaten her fill. Her gaze was drawn to her purse rather than the news on the TV. When she'd gone to pay for the pizza, she had found a lottery ticket tucked into her purse. Melissa might have had a bad day, but she was certain that she would remember buying a lottery ticket. She wanted to question it, but there was a niggling in the back of her mind that said not to think about it too much. Not having to worry about her mortgage would be nice, and to be honest, a cruise really did sound like a nice way to get away from everything for a while.

She'd check the lottery ticket on her lunch break tomorrow and see what happened then. It might have just been a fluke that it was sitting in her wallet, after all. It could be utterly worthless, Melissa had no idea and really didn't want to speculate on it too much, for fear of it raising her hopes. As the lights in the house flickered violently before going dark completely, Melissa winced, remembering her vague thought that afternoon at having forgotten something: the electricity bill. Sighing, she fumbled around the couch for her phone to at least have some light, and was surprised to find that in the time she had her torch turned on, Scott had disappeared. The pizza box was still sitting on the coffee table, and Melissa was even more surprised to find that it was still fairly full. Usually, Scott would eat his way through a full pizza in a matter of minutes. Realising that her son was no longer in the house at all, Melissa sighed and carried the pizza boxes to the kitchen. Maybe if she found the electricity bill and begged the utility company hard enough, her fridge full of food wouldn't go to waste.

 _It was going to be a long night_ , she decided with another heavy sigh.

...

End of the seventh chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's fairly pleased that he's managed to invite everyone to his Sunday barbecue and actually have them arrive. Lydia's there with her mother, Melissa's brought a somewhat reluctant Scott along, the entire lacrosse team has arrived with Coach Finstock because they won the previous night's game with Danny as goalie and there are few things John's proud of, but the high school lacrosse team is one of those things. Mason's come to support Liam who looks a little nervous at being at an adult's party, though the way he's throwing nervous glances towards Scott (who hasn't stopped scowling since he saw the younger teen in the backyard), John thinks he might be concerned about his former Alpha as well, even if Liam doesn't know that Scott was his former Alpha. It's difficult to keep up with who's what, or not what, anymore.

John's fairly pleased that he's managed to invite everyone to his Sunday barbecue and actually have them arrive. Lydia's there with her mother, Melissa's brought a somewhat reluctant Scott along, the entire lacrosse team has arrived with Coach Finstock because they won the previous night's game with Danny as goalie and there are few things John's proud of, but the high school lacrosse team is one of those things. Mason's come to support Liam who looks a little nervous at being at an adult's party, though the way he's throwing nervous glances towards Scott (who hasn't stopped scowling since he saw the younger teen in the backyard), John thinks he might be concerned about his former Alpha as well, even if Liam doesn't know that Scott was his former Alpha. It's difficult to keep up with who's what, or not what, anymore.

The weather's nice, the company is pleasant for the most part, and he's just waiting on Stiles and Derek before he starts up the barbecue and begins grilling all of the meat he'd bought at the local butcher's. (If most of the meat doesn't get eaten and he has to have it for his own dinner and lunch for the next month, well, John certainly won't be complaining!) The best part is that only Melissa thought to bring a salad, and if he plays his cards right, he might not even have to eat any of it.

"Hey, Dad. Whoa, that's _a lot_ of meat. You'd better have some veggie burgers in there, old man," Stiles muttered when he saw the stacks of meat waiting to be cooked, setting two separate salads down on the table next to Melissa's one.

"Nice to see you too, Stiles," John said pointedly, drawing him into a hug.

Stiles hugged him back firmly. Beside Derek, Artemis barked eagerly, obviously smelling the sausages.

"Nice to see you, Sheriff. I'll be more than happy to get the veggie burgers out of the freezer if you've forgotten them," Derek offered, and John scowled at him half-heartedly.

"One, and that's it. I refuse to be vegetablised at my own damn barbecue, got it?"

Now he just had to convince Stiles that the veggie burger was more enough greens, and he didn't have to eat the salad.

"Vegetablised?" Stiles echoed, laughing as Derek headed inside to the kitchen freezer. "You've always had a way with words, Pops."

"Says the kid who told me at the age of six that _gravitationalised_ was a word meaning Earth's gravity was an institutionalised forcefield keeping us all in line and on the Earth," John replied with a laugh.

"I still stand by that word," Stiles retorted, grinning. "Thanks, Dor," he added, pressing a kiss to Derek's cheek when he came back with a single veggie burger pattie on a plate.

John noticed it was one of the smaller ones, and decided he'd forgive Derek eventually.

"Why don't you two go get reacquainted with everyone, introduce Artemis, and I'll get this thing started," John suggested, clapping his hands and turning the barbecue on.

"It's good to see you both here. I thought you wouldn't make it," Melissa admitted, reaching down to pat Artemis when they came towards her.

"We had a few things to take care of before we came here," Derek replied, grinning a little when he saw Artemis' tongue loll out of his mouth.

"Fair enough. Took me a while to convince Scott to come. I think he's mostly here for the food, rather than the prospect of pleasant company and a nice afternoon spent with others," Melissa said, fully aware that her son could hear her words, and raising an eyebrow at him pointedly.

Scott scowled again, then went over to talk to Danny.

"Well, we can definitely promise that it will be an interesting afternoon. We've been teaching Artemis some tricks, and Der-bear's been dying to show them off," Stiles said, grinning.

Derek rolled his eyes. "It's nothing more than training him to sit down - " Artemis sat down promptly, tail wagging a bit behind him " - or to lie down and roll over - " Artemis flattened his body on the grass, rolling over three times to Melissa's delighted laughter " - or playing dead." Here, Artemis fell onto his back, tongue hanging out and body barely moving with his breaths.

"Here, Artemis! Who's a good dog?" Stiles cooed, scratching the large Doberman eagerly as he barked happily in response.

"That was great, Derek. How long did it take to teach him all that?"

"An afternoon or two. Artemis is a very quick learner," Derek replied, still looking a little proud at Melissa's praise.

"We're still working on teaching him how to fetch things, though. He has a habit of bringing any old thing back to us," Stiles added with a soft snort of amusement. "Der threw a ball for him, and he came back with a huge freaking tree branch instead."

"To be fair, I'd thrown that branch for him earlier in the day. I think he just got the scents mixed up," Derek said, scratching Artemis behind the ears fondly.

"How's the hospital going?" Stiles asked, standing and wiping his hands on his pants.

"Same old, I guess. Nothing trying to attack my patients this week, I'm almost bored," Melissa joked, grinning.

Stiles laughed uproariously, grinning broadly when he settled down. "Be careful what you wish for, Melissa, isn't that the saying?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, I know the dangers of wishing for interesting times, trust me on that. Now, you two should bring that lovely dog of yours to the children's ward some time. The kids would be so excited to see a dog large enough for them to ride on."

"How 'bout it, Der? Reckon Artemis could be some little kid's steed for a day?" Stiles asked.

"We'll see what we can do," Derek promised Melissa; it wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either.

"No problem. Just let me know if you do come over, I'll make sure they're all on their best behaviour," she added with a smile. "Now, I've taken up enough of your time, go talk with someone more interesting than me. I'm going to make sure your father isn't ruining the steaks like last time," Melissa said, patting Stiles on the shoulder as she headed over to the barbecue.

"Tell him I want mine medium-rare, please," Derek called after her.

Stiles shook his head. "Pretty sure everyone in _Beacon County_ knows you like your steak medium-rare after the hissy fit you pitched last time, Dor."

"It wasn't a hissy fit; I was simply stating the way a medium-rare steak should be cooked."

"Yeah, ten decibels higher than required. C'mon, let's go say hi to Danny," Stiles said, grabbing Derek's hand and tugging him over to where Danny and Scott were talking.

As they neared the two young men, Derek's nostrils started flaring in a way that let Stiles know he was pissed off. As they got closer, Stiles listened to what was being said, and wasn't entirely surprised at Derek's response.

"They're going to kill us all, Danny, how can you not want anything to do with it?" Scott hissed.

"I've stayed out of that supernatural shit for my entire life, Scott, and I refuse to get dragged into it _now_. I don't care if the whole world gets decimated, it's my life and it's my choice, and I'm saying **no** ," Danny replied firmly, shrugging out of Scott's grasp with a strength that obviously surprised Scott.

Scott stepped back, eyes wide. "Y'know what? _Fine_. I don't care if you help or not. If you don't help, you're going to die, just like everyone else!"

Scott's words were probably louder than he'd intended them to be, and a few of the guests looked over to him in worry. Before anyone could say or do anything, Scott ran out of the backyard, through the house, and out into the street. Melissa called after him, but there was little doubt he'd return for the rest of the barbecue. Melissa headed inside to leave a sternly-worded message on his phone, but she knew there would be no point trying to drag her stubborn son back or home. He'd return when he was ready.

"God damn it, Greenberg, put the ketchup down before you spill it on yourself!" Finstock called out, groaning.

People stopped staring at that, a few laughing when they saw that Finstock was taking the mustard and sauce bottles from Greenberg, muttering under his breath.

"Well, that was one hell of a dramatic exit. How are you doing, Danny?" Stiles asked, smiling at him.

"Look, no offence, but I just need you both to leave me alone right now. Scott's said some pretty weird things, and I need to process them before I talk to either of you, okay?"

"Sure, no problem. Talk to you later," Stiles said, heading over to Liam and Mason. "Hey, congratulations on the win last night. That was pretty fancy work with your crosse, Liam."

"Uh, thanks. Sorry, who're you?" Liam asked, looking between Stiles and Derek in confusion.

"I'm the Sheriff's kid, Stiles, and this here's my boyfriend, Derek. That's our dog, Artemis. Don't worry, he's more likely to lick you to death than hurt you. Uh, the dog, not Derek," Stiles added, grinning when Artemis licked Liam's cheek and butted against him to be petted.

"Right. You two are the ones Scott was talking about when he went nuts and tried to break Liam's arm," Mason said, not sure if he wanted them around after that.

"He did what?" Derek asked, almost growling.

Liam held up his arm. It wasn't bandaged, but there was still some light bruising. "He was going nuts, said something about werewolves, and tried to break my arm. Mason and Coach got him to back off; it's why he was benched last night."

"That's really weird. Scott must've binged on a monster movie marathon or something. Now, at the risk of sounding corny, how'd you two lovebirds get together?" Stiles asked with a quick grin and wink.

"We've been friends for ages. Mason stood up for me and tried to help me when Scott was hurting me, and it kind of evolved from there," Liam said, smiling and taking Mason's hand in his own.

"That's so sweet," Lydia said, coming over with a plate and drink in her hands. "You might want to get the food before it's all gone," she added, nodding back over to where the Sheriff was handing out burgers and sausages to a line of people.

Mason and Liam practically ran for the line, and Lydia grinned as she turned to Stiles and Derek.

"If my hands were free, I don't know if I'd slap you or hug you both," Lydia said, her tone light but eyes sharp.

"What for?" Derek asked curiously.

"You two know _exactly_ what for. I know you used me as some sort of messenger or whatever, but on the plus side, I'm well on my way to getting my Fields Medal because of it."

"I'll take one slap for using you, two hugs for the rest of it. Finish your food first, you'll be too full and tired to hit me with much effort," Stiles added, grinning.

"Don't count on it, Stilinski. Now, are you two going to tell me what message I actually helped send out? It had to be something big if you got every banshee in the world to scream it," she said, sipping at her fruit punch.

"You'll find out sooner or later," Derek replied. "Artemis, one sausage only. No more, or you won't get any treats when we get home."

Artemis whined sadly, but headed over to the barbecue anyway.

"You're a total pushover, Der, you're going to give him treats no matter how many sausages he gets," Stiles snickered.

"You'd cave just as easily, Zbee."

Lydia rolled her eyes at how sappy they were being towards each other, and carefully sat down on the seat Liam and Mason had departed. She rested her plate on her knees, biting into her burger, and trying not to laugh when she saw Artemis coming back proudly with a sausage in his mouth, a string of them trailing behind him.

"Technically, it _is_ one string of sausages," she said after swallowing her mouthful.

Artemis grinned around the sausage in his mouth, then moved to lie down at her feet.

"You total suck up," Stiles said to Artemis, laughing as he headed over to the barbecue to get their own food.

Lydia shook her head, watching as Artemis gnawed on his sausages happily. At the barbecue, Stiles was trying to get the Sheriff to cook the veggie burger and eat it before any proper meat products. While John was distracted, Derek was surreptitiously filling a plate with nothing but salad.

The rest of the people were eating and talking together in their little groups, Finstock glaring at Greenberg any time he tried to come over. Danny was standing a few steps away from the other lacrosse guys, and she could see he was thinking about something seriously, his gaze sliding to Stiles and Derek every so often. Lydia wasn't surprised when Danny came over and sat next to her a few minutes later, looking curiously between the dog at her feet and Stiles and Derek. He wasn't even eating the sausage on his plate, and Lydia thought that if he didn't eat it soon, then Artemis definitely would.

"From your shell-shocked expression, I'm assuming Scott told you?" Lydia commented, sipping at her drink.

" _You know?_ Why am I not surprised?" Danny asked, sighing.

"Because I know a lot of things, Danny."

"Is it something you know because Scott told you, or because you're a banshee?" he muttered.

"Stiles and Derek told all of us, actually. Scott's the only one going on a little crusade over it... Since when have you known that I was a banshee?" she asked curiously.

"Since Ms. Blake. A lot of stuff happened around that time, and my family's always been very aware of the nature of Beacon Hills. We decided to get out before Argent tried to kill us for what knowledge we had... I still don't know if I miss this place all that much," Danny admitted.

"Interesting. I suppose you'll want to talk with Stiles and Derek alone?" she asked.

"You can stay. I... To be honest, I really don't want to know anything. What I already know is too much."

"They can fix that, if you want. Liam used to be a werewolf," Lydia said, nodding over to where Liam and Mason were wrestling with another boy from their lacrosse team over a spilled condiment or drink or something.

"Thought there was something different about him," Danny muttered, taking a bit bite out of his sausage before Artemis could steal it from his plate.

Stiles and Derek made their way back to Artemis and Lydia warily, Stiles eyeing Danny like he was ready to bolt.

"So, what are you two planning? College, travelling, getting full-time jobs?" Danny asked, grinning at them.

Stiles seemed to relax immediately, and he returned the grin easily. "Travelling. We want to see as much of the world as possible. I've got a list of lakes I want to see, as well as the fjords in Norway."

"You and those damn fjords," Derek groaned, rolling his eyes.

Danny wasn't entirely sure he got the joke, but he smiled anyway.

"Derek's got a list of national preserve parks he wants to see. There's some really amazing wildlife in them, and I'm going to play wildlife bingo," Stiles added, grinning.

"Only you, Stilinski," Danny said with an easy grin.

"It's the only way to keep him entertained on long hikes," Derek muttered, shaking his head. "The last time he tried entertaining himself, the dodo population became extinct."

"Those birds were stupid as fuck, and they shouldn't have gone near a damn erupting volcano in the first place."

" _Platypus_ , Zbee."

"You two sound like an old married couple," Lydia said, shaking her head at them.

"Thanks," Stiles quipped, grinning. "I keep asking, but Der-bear refuses to marry me."

"You've _never_ asked!"

"Huh," Stiles said, taking in Derek's blushing cheeks and embarrassed expression. "Does that mean you'd say yes if I did ask?"

Derek rolled his eyes, as if he didn't need to answer that and it was a stupid question.

"D'you wanna get married then?"

"My, you're obviously a romantic, Stiles," Lydia deadpanned.

"Seriously, she's right. That was one of the worst ways to propose, ever," Danny added.

"I wasn't proposing to either of you," Stiles muttered.

Derek pulled him in close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders so he could lean in close to Stiles' ear. "I don't want to be married because I don't want to conform to one of the humans' many unnecessary rituals. I already know you're all I'll ever need and want, just as I am for you. But, in order to keep others from touching what's mine, I will wear your ring if you'll accept to wear mine. At least until they're all dead and we don't need the rings anymore."

"Aww, Der-bear, you say the sweetest things," Stiles murmured, moving to kiss him eagerly. "And of course I accept."

Derek grinned against his lips, kissing him again, holding him tight. Lydia and Danny looked at each other and shrugged.

"Greenberg, get off your phone! You're meant to be socialising, not playing _Farm Crush 3000_ or whatever it is you're doing!" Coach yelled.

"Yes, Coach," Greenberg called back.

"C'mon, I know the perfect place to go make out," Stiles said, taking Derek's hand and leading him away.

Artemis snapped up the rest of their food before they were even inside.

Stiles was in the process of getting a very involved hickey and beard burn on his neck when he heard Lydia scream. Derek grinned against him, hips grinding down as Stiles laughed and thrust up to meet his hips firmly.

"Should we go see, or wait a little longer?" Stiles asked breathlessly, Derek biting and nipping at the curve of his neck and shoulder.

Another scream, this time from Lydia's mother, and then Coach.

_"Greenberg, get on your phone and record this right now!"_

"One more, then we'll go see," Derek murmured, tilting Stiles' head to the other side so he could work on creating a hickey there too.

Melissa let out a cry of surprise, and then there were several screams from the lacrosse team. There was a loud rumbling sound, like a huge rocket leaving the ground and heading up into the atmosphere, but Derek and Stiles both knew that it was something entering Earth's atmosphere, not leaving it.

"I think that's our cue, Der-bear," Stiles said, pulling away and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

Derek nodded, licking his lips and moving to stand up. Stiles accepted the hand he offered, and they both made their way downstairs. John and Melissa were huddling under the salad table, Greenberg was clinging to Finstock in a way that resembled Shaggy and Scooby Doo, Liam and Mason were trying to hide behind the barbecue, and a few of the lacrosse guys had actually fainted. Lydia was standing in the middle of the yard, staring up into the sky. Parrish must have arrived late, because he was in the mess of it all as well, eyes wide as he tried to call out to Lydia. Stiles and Derek walked out of the house to join Lydia, looking up into the sky. A large ball of flames was falling down through the atmosphere, the thing inside of the fiery ball not seemingly effected by the intense heat as it descended.

"I was right!" Stiles exclaimed happily, grinning at Derek.

"Never said you weren't. I'm just glad it's not Plan Z," he called back.

"Same here. Now, Lyds, sorry for this, but we need to use you again," Stiles said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

On the other side of her, Derek put his hand on her opposite shoulder, and they both glowed blue, the colour enveloping the three of them in a second. Lydia's eyes were glazed over as she tipped her head back and _screamed_.

The ball of flames stopped abruptly at the sound, hovering for a moment, and the world seemed to stand still as it let out a scream of its own, everyone at the barbecue crying out in pain and covering their ears. (Greenberg let out a second cry of pain when Coach dropped him.) Lydia screamed again, and the ball of flames stopped descending towards the north, actually adjusting in mid air before falling again, this time directly towards them.

"That's it, baby. C'mon, come home to papa," Stiles called, laughter in his tone as he and Derek watched the ball of flames becoming smaller.

The fiery ball stopped directly above the blue circle encasing Stiles, Derek, and Lydia, and the flames went out with a shrill trill of happiness. Those that weren't still crouching on the ground in pain looked up in time to see a long winding creature, much like a Chinese dragon but far more corporeal than solid, curling down towards Stiles and Derek. Lydia collapsed to the ground between them, her body shaking as she came back to herself, her eyes wide and breath short. The creature wrapped and wound its long body around Stiles and Derek, all of them oblivious to the stares they were receiving. The dragonesque creature rubbed its face up against Stiles' cheek happily, letting out little trilling notes that could have been purrs if it had been a cat-like creature.

"Hey, Sheriff?" Finstock called, eyes wide and unable to stop staring at the _thing_ wrapped around Stiles and Derek.

"Yeah, Coach?" John called back, his eyes and expression probably mirroring Finstock's one.

"Am I hallucinating?"

"Not unless we're all hallucinating the exact same thing, cupcake."

"Oh. Good to know," Finstock said weakly.

"I've missed you, sweetheart. Look how much control you've gained, even without me! I can't wait to see everything I've missed out on," Stiles murmured, stroking the dragon creature thing's face.

_Missed you too. You left Tnerg behind to guard the hole you made. You left with_ ** _that one!_** _All your fault_ , the creature hissed, glowering over at Derek briefly.

"I kept telling him not to make a tear in the universe, he refused to listen!" Derek muttered.

"Actually, you kept saying that I _couldn't_ , which obviously meant I had to in order to prove you wrong," Stiles said, grinning. "Oh, don't be like that, sweetheart. He's taken good care of me. He kept his promise to you, I swear."

The creature seemed to relax slightly at that, and moved so it could rub its face on Derek too. _Thank you for keeping your promise to Tnerg. That one would not survive on its own_.

"Tnerg, what happened to the hole you were guarding?" Stiles asked.

_Closed it for you. Had to, they were hurting Tnerg, and threatening to hurt you and your one_.

"How'd they hurt you, sweetheart? Do I need to go rip those bastards apart?"

_Tnerg better now. Tnerg ate three of them before leaving_.

"That's my girl. Now, come on, sweetheart, we've got some important people for you to meet," Stiles murmured, stroking the scales on her back and stomach, her body twisted easily.

"All of them?" Derek asked curiously.

"Nah. The lot from lacrosse can go. Liam and Mason already said no. Should probably keep Danny out of it; Coach and Greenberg too, as hilarious as it would be. Just the important ones."

Derek nodded and almost immediately, bright blue lights encased the ones Stiles had mentioned. Finstock let out a curse, the words stopped halfway as he went unconscious. Greenberg didn't even get to say anything, the lacrosse team were already too scared to fight it, Danny seemed relieved even in his unconscious state, Liam and Mason were encased together, and when Lydia tugged at the leg of Derek's jeans, he did the same to her mother as well. They all disappeared without a sound, leaving only John, Melissa, Parrish, Lydia, and Artemis besides Stiles, Derek and Tnerg in the yard.

"Thanks," Lydia said softly, standing up on trembling legs. "I think I'm ready to slap you now, Stiles."

"Oh, damn," he murmured with a wince, but turned to face her anyway.

Lydia slapped him with as much strength as she could muster, and considering her legs were still shaking, it was a lot more strength than she'd anticipated. Her hand stung, but Stiles' cheek stung worse, she was sure of it. The creature wrapped around Stiles and Derek turned on Lydia with a hiss, protective of her masters, and Lydia just stared at the banshee that she was meant to resemble. It looked nothing like her, the red shimmering scales aside.

"I'm supposed to remind you of that?" she asked, looking between them and the banshee with a frown.

"Not you physically; your soul. It's a fairly close resemblance, considering you still had to be human on top of it all," Derek added.

_This one is made in Tnerg's likeness? It is so_ thin _compared to Tnerg_.

"We were working with what we had at the time, sweetheart. Now, do you want to meet my dad, or keep comparing yourself to Lydia's soul?" Stiles asked, grinning.

Tnerg unwrapped herself from the three of them, floating next to Stiles instead, her tail resting on his shoulder.

"Dad, this is Tnerg. She's my... well, I guess you could say banshee companion from my old home," Stiles said with a slight shrug. "Tnerg, this is my dad, Sheriff John Stilinski."

"Uh, nice to meet you. Tnerg? That's right?" John asked nervously.

Tnerg nodded and moved to wrap herself around John's midsection. _This one loves you a lot. Tnerg feels it. This one also loves that one, but it's not as happy as this one's love for you_.

"Ha, knew it!"

"Knew what, son? I'm assuming you're talking to the... uh, banshee here, but I can't hear a thing," John admitted with a slight frown, stroking the creature at Stiles' encouraging nod.

"You mean you can't hear that?" Lydia asked, eyes wide in surprise. "Tnerg's talking perfect English."

"She's talking in our minds, Lyds. You're able to hear her as a banshee, and because we fed you part of our power to get her attention. Not even the other banshees can hear Tnerg, and she is definitely not speaking English," Derek explained gently.

"Oh. I might... I think I need to sit down," Lydia murmured, slowly lowering herself to the grass again.

Artemis bounded over to her, practically bowling her over to get on her lap and her attention. Lydia petted him absent-mindedly, slowly coming back to herself as Artemis demanded more of her attention. Parrish moved from where he was beside Melissa, and sat next to Lydia cautiously, joining her in patting Artemis and talking to her in soft murmurs.

"All right, next up is Melissa McCall. Awesome lady all 'round, and is probably due all of the credit in making my dad eat healthily at all since I moved out," Stiles admitted.

"Oh, wow. Hello, there! Tnerg's... how do I describe the feel of her? That's amazing," Melissa said with a small laugh, stroking the creature as it wound up one of her arms.

"She's probably closer to what some of the original dinosaurs felt like than anything you've got here," Derek offered.

"Though not as rubbery as the museums would have you believe," Stiles added with a snicker. "Jordan Parrish and Lydia Martin, Tnerg the banshee; Tnerg, those two. And Artemis, our very loyal steed," he added with a laugh, Derek rolling his eyes at the joke.

Tnerg wrapped herself around Parrish and Lydia's torsos, spending a bit of time rubbing against Lydia's neck, and helping ease her shock. Artemis yapped happily, playing with Tnerg's tail as it waved in front of him.

"Is Tnerg the reason you've been so interested in black holes lately?" John asked curiously.

Derek nodded. "Tnerg's been creating black holes, trying to look for us. She probably managed the wormholes we saw as well. Easier to travel through those than flying through space all of the time."

"How does she create black holes? Aren't those things supposed to be huge?" Melissa asked, moving over to play with the creature and subtly check that Lydia was all right.

"Tnerg shrank herself so she could fit on Earth with us. From the size of the last black hole we saw, I'd say she's big enough to consume Jupiter _and_ the sun without a problem. She was three football fields long when she was a baby, and it's been a few billion years since I saw her last. My precious baby," Stiles cooed, scratching at a few of Tnerg's scales.

Tnerg trilled happily, twisting against skin and fingers eagerly.

"She's certainly something," Parrish said, eyes a little wide.

"Where's your banshee companion, Derek?" John asked curiously.

"Waa'in died so we could escape. Sacrificed himself to give us more time, and the last I saw of him, he'd been shrieked to pieces by four other scientists' banshees. Took all four of them to take my Waa'in down," he added, fierce, proud, and sad.

Tnerg's happy trill stopped almost immediately, and she moved away from the others to wrap herself around Derek completely. She glowed with a low pulsing red light, all of them watching her curiously. John looked to Stiles for an explanation, utterly confused, but Stiles was watching Tnerg and Derek with what looked to be tears in his eyes, and John couldn't bring himself to ask just yet.

"Sweetheart, don't cry. It's all right. Shh," Stiles soothed, stroking Tnerg's face gently, before moving on to his toes to press a kiss to Derek's lips.

"Uh, what just happened?" Melissa asked, frowning.

"Tnerg helped take the sad emotions away from Derek. We told you that our world was more interested in science than emotion? Banshees not only fought for us, but also took away any emotion we no longer wanted to feel. Most scientists took away their capacity to love as soon as they got their banshee; it's an emotion that they think negatively affects their work, which is so not true. I kicked all of their asses with my theory _and_ loving Derek three times daily," Stiles said with a proud grin.

"There _is_ such a thing as too much information, Stiles," Lydia groaned, burying her head against Parrish's shoulder.

Stiles pretended as though he hadn't heard her and continued, "Tnerg's not as strong here as she would be in our other world, but she can still stem the emotion for a few days or weeks. Usually banshees take an emotion for as much time as it would take people to get over the emotion entirely, so that way they don't have to take it again. When I first met Derek, Tnerg was taking love nearly every day," Stiles admitted, grinning again.

"You never told me that," Derek said, still looking a little dazed.

"Maybe I didn't want you to know before now," Stiles said, pressing another kiss to his lips.

Tnerg slipped out from between them as a different emotion took over Derek, one that he definitely didn't want removed. Artemis barked and began to chase Tnerg around the yard, the long creature winding its tail up high to avoid Artemis' teeth.

"Artemis, back," Derek called sharply.

The dog stopped chasing the banshee and made his way back to his owners with a soft whine.

"You should know better than to chase something that can kill you, Artemis," Stiles said, patting the Doberman gently.

"Well, there is some good news in all of this," John said with a quick smile. "That banshee coming down right above the barbecue knocked all of the salads off the table."

" _Just_ the salads?" Stiles asked suspiciously, seeing that every other bowl on the table was perfectly fine.

"Seems like it!" John replied firmly.

"Thankfully, your veggie burger survived her descent," Derek replied pointedly, John groaning in response.

Melissa, who was a little annoyed that her salad had so conveniently disappeared from the table, stood up and made sure the Sheriff ate every last bite of his veggie burger. Stiles laughed into Derek's shoulder, and behind them Parrish was chuckling softly with Lydia pressed up against his side.

...

Scott couldn't take it anymore. No one seemed to understand that they were all going to die. They were going to be killed, their entire planet was going to be destroyed, and they were all totally fine doing _nothing!_ They were going to just sit there twiddling their thumbs and let the entire human race be destroyed like, like ... _cattle!_ They were livestock, just waiting to be slaughtered, and no one seemed to want to fight it, to _live_. He didn't care what things had happened to Stiles and Derek before, that was no reason to kill everyone off now!

He ran from the barbecue, ignoring his mother calling out to him, and then ignoring his phone as it rang in his pocket, and Scott just continued to run and run until his legs burned. He didn't care who had seen him running while half-wolfed out, he didn't have his bike anymore so he needed to run everywhere now. Besides, if anyone had seen him, they'd just blame it on a trick of the light.

As Scott slowed down, he realised that he recognised his surroundings. Knowing where he was and where he was headed didn't make Scott slow down or turn back, and he continued along the road towards Eichen House.

The doctor recognised him from the last time he'd come in to admit Peter, and Scott was led through the pale green hallways, through to the supernatural section of Eichen House. Peter was still in his cell with Dr. Valuck, but the older werewolf didn't really look like his usual self. He was lying on a cot bed, not moving except for an occasional twitch, and he simply looked to be sleeping. The way Dr. Valuck was watching Peter with all three eyes made Scott think otherwise. The Eichen House doctor stunned Dr. Valuck, using a sedative that would knock him out for at least three hours, Scott was informed.

From there, several nurses moved Peter from his cell to a room down the hall where Scott could talk to him. He had a three hour time limit, and Scott took a deep breath as he decided that this was really something he was going to do, before he extended his claws, his eyes red and teeth sharp, and then plunged them into the back of Peter's neck. Peter arched off the cot, eyes wide open in pain, and Scott was pulled into his mind.

Peter, for all the pain his exterior was going through, didn't look at all ruffled or even surprised at Scott's presence in his head. Instead, he gave Scott a smile that set his neck hair on edge, and settled back on a chair, hands folded in his lap.

"Well, _True Alpha Scott McCall_ , this _is_ a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you today?"

Scott clenched his jaw and stepped forward. "Stiles and Derek are gods, and they're going to kill everyone on Earth. I need your help to stop them."

...

End of the eighth chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John was fairly sure that his weekend barbecue wasn't a dream. He definitely saw a dragon-esque creature descend from the sky, saw Stiles and Derek talking to it like they could hear whatever it was saying, and then introduce it as a pet. He's somewhere around 95% sure it wasn't a dream because Melissa remembered the exact same thing. But Coach Finstock had given him a weird look when he mentioned dragons at the supermarket when they ran into each other, then muttered something about light shows and continued past with his shopping basket full of bananas. (Apparently, John's as subtle as his son in regards to some things.) The lacrosse team don't seem to remember a thing either, and Danny's actually heading back to Hawaii. John only knew this because the boy had dropped in by the station to apologise for not being able to make the barbecue on the weekend, thanking him for supporting the team, and to say his goodbyes before he left with his parents. That conversation had resulted in John's third phone call to Melissa to ask if she remembered the barbecue.

John was fairly sure that his weekend barbecue wasn't a dream. He definitely saw a dragon-esque creature descend from the sky, saw Stiles and Derek talking to it like they could hear whatever it was saying, and then introduce it as a pet. He's somewhere around 95% sure it wasn't a dream because Melissa remembered the exact same thing. But Coach Finstock had given him a weird look when he mentioned dragons at the supermarket when they ran into each other, then muttered something about light shows and continued past with his shopping basket full of bananas. (Apparently, John's as subtle as his son in regards to some things.) The lacrosse team don't seem to remember a thing either, and Danny's actually heading back to Hawaii. John only knew this because the boy had dropped in by the station to apologise for not being able to make the barbecue on the weekend, thanking him for supporting the team, and to say his goodbyes before he left with his parents. That conversation had resulted in John's third phone call to Melissa to ask if she remembered the barbecue.

"Stiles? Why is your father asking me about the barbecue _again?_ " Melissa asked, frowning at him slightly.

Stiles left Artemis and Derek to play with the children in the paediatric ward and made his way over to where Melissa was standing, keeping a watchful eye on them all.

"He's probably just determining that it actually happened. We kind of did a mind wipe of the people we bubbled away."

"Bubbled away? You mean that light thing you did?" Melissa asked, receiving a nod in return. "And that erased their memories of the barbecue?"

"Altered it a bit for most of them. Except Danny; we gave him a full wipe since he said he didn't want to know anything. It has to be wanted if we do it again."

"Wait, what has to be wanted? And what do you mean, _again?_ "

Stiles looked a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck briefly. "We wiped everyone's memories when our power came back, and restored a select few when Lydia kind of demanded it. To remove memories again entirely, it has to be wanted by the person - like with Liam and Mason - or we can just alter them a bit, like we did with Kira. But still, the will has to be there."

"Which is the main reason Scott still remembers us, honestly, Mrs. McCall," Derek added, coming over and leaving the laughing children behind him.

"Yeah, I doubt he'll want to forget anytime soon," Stiles murmured. "We just want everyone to be happy, like we were never able to be before now."

"So the lottery ticket is my happiness?" Melissa asked with a small snort.

"If you want it to be. You can use it yourself, on others, do whatever you want to make you happy. It's not there to pressure you into anything," Derek replied smoothly, sliding his arm around Stiles' waist.

" _Nurse McCall to triage. Code: SWD._ "

"Oh," Melissa murmured, glancing between Stiles and Derek and the door.

"What's SWD?" Derek asked with a slight frown.

"Scott with dinner," Stiles said, having accompanied his friend enough to know the code.

"He's going to smell you two on me, isn't he?" Melissa asked reluctantly.

"Probably. We might as well come out with you. Artemis," Stiles called.

Artemis stopped baring his stomach for belly rubs with the children, scrambled up onto his four paws, and bounded over to them in a matter of seconds.

"Behave, all three of you," Melissa said in her best mum voice, levelling Stiles and Derek with a glare worthy of a hundred mothers, and then headed out to the triage desk.

Stiles grinned at Derek and they both followed her out with Artemis walking beside them calmly. The Doberman let out a small snarl on seeing Scott, and Derek put a hand on Artemis' head to calm him again.

"Thank you for bringing food, Scott. I appreciate - "

"What are _they_ doing here?" Scott demanded, glaring.

"Visiting sick kids and letting them play with Artemis, like your mother invited us to do last week," Derek replied.

"Problem, Scotty?" Stiles asked with a broad grin.

Scott's jaw tightened and he thrust the bag of takeaway food at his mother.

"Scott!" Melissa cried out, fumbling to grab the bag before her dinner spilled everywhere.

"I can't believe you invited _them_ here!" Scott hissed at her with a glare.

Artemis growled lowly, and Derek frowned, but calmed the dog once more.

"Your tone is not appreciated, young man. Stiles and Derek are here to help those kids, they are not here to spite you," Melissa said, close to snapping at her son.

"Why? Why are you here when you're just going to kill them anyway? What fucking purpose does this serve?!" Scott asked, his voice louder than intended.

The noise in the reception died down, a few people looking between Scott, Stiles and Derek in concern.

"All right, I've had enough! All of you, follow me," Melissa said with a sigh, her hand curled tightly around the handle of her plastic bag.

Confused and curious, Stiles and Derek did as she said, and Scott followed a second later. Artemis walked after him, herding him to follow without trying to escape. They were all silent as they waited for the elevator to arrive, though Scott threw a few glares at Stiles and Derek every few seconds.

"Get in," Melissa said, glaring when Stiles went to question her.

He closed his mouth and stepped into the elevator quickly, the others not far behind. Melissa stepped in, pressed a button, and again, silence reigned. Stiles was tempted to hum along to the elevator music, but decided not to push Melissa's patience further. When they'd reached the uppermost level, Melissa herded the three young men up to the roof, Artemis beside her loyally.

"You three are going to stay up here and talk. You will continue to talk until you work out whatever pissing contest you've got going on, okay? I will be back in two hours after I've finished my dinner and rounds. If you break the door down, you will not only pay for it, but you will be put on volunteer duty until I determine otherwise. If I come back to find out that _any_ of you have jumped off the building to escape this conversation, you do not want to know what I will do to you, is that understood?" Melissa asked, looking between them with a fierce expression.

"Yes, ma'am," Derek replied quickly.

Stiles nodded and stopped edging towards the side of the building, giving her a sheepish grin. "Understood."

"Yes, mum," Scott said sullenly.

"Good. Artemis, come with me," Melissa called, the Doberman loping to her side without even a questioning look to Stiles or Derek.

"Traitor," Stiles muttered.

Artemis let out a bark, and Derek snorted a laugh at Stiles' expression, even as the door closed with a firm thud.

"Why are you listening to my mum, anyway?" Scott muttered.

"We have a thing about parental figures, and Melissa's one for both of us," Stiles replied, shrugging.

"She's looked after Stiles for quite some time, and even took it upon herself to look after me while I was human. We're just returning the favour," Derek added, moving to sit on the concrete, Stiles sitting beside him.

"So, you're repaying debts to people for being nice to you, and then you're _still_ going to kill us all off?" Scott muttered, sitting across from them with his back pressed up against the door.

"Yes, Scott. Just because people have been nice to us before, it doesn't mean they will be afterwards. People are too unpredictable, free will is unstable at best, and even if we wanted to keep some of you alive, you're all too dependent on technology and your current way of life. You would never be able to adjust to what we have planned in order to restore the planet."

"Why can't you let us decide that?" Scott demanded hotly, glaring.

"Because then humanity will revert back to survival of the fittest; the strongest specimens surviving rather than the ones best suited for an even future for the human race," Derek replied.

"It's not exactly an _even_ future right now, is it?"

"No, but in the beginning it was. We weren't aware just how much you would procreate and spread across the planet. Of course, now that we've experienced that particular act for ourselves, it's not so surprising anymore," Stiles said, grinning.

Derek didn't seem interested in answering any of Scott's questions, standing towards the edge of the roof and whistling a soft lilting tune.

"Deaton agrees with me; he's not going to let you kill us all," Scott said firmly.

"I'm sure that Deaton is extremely trustworthy. He basically let all of Derek's family die, but hey, who doesn't want _that guy_ on their side?" Stiles sneered.

"He did not! He had nothing to do with Kate!"

"No, but he was the Hale's emissary, and that means more than just being able to use magic. It means he was meant to keep them safe, to ward against any danger; there are spells that repel mountain ash from areas of the ground - you'd think a house of werewolves would have needed something like that, don't you? Even if it wasn't the entire house, it still could have been done in enough places to repel an entire circle of mountain ash being laid down. They could have survived, just with one simple spell."

"That's got nothing to do with both of you destroying everything!"

"It might not be our entire reason, but it's definitely something. A human woman killed an entire house full of innocent people simply because they were different. Women, children, werewolves, an entire family killed by a mortal woman. That's not something we had in mind when we created you lot!" Stiles snapped.

"You said yourselves that it's a person's free will - why should all of humanity pay for what one person did?"

Stiles laughed, sour and bitter. "Have you watched the news lately, Scott? Every single night someone has been killed, someone has been raped, someone has killed themselves or died of an overdose, or someone has been hurt or maimed beyond repair; _that's_ what your free will gets you. That's what free will given freely _without you earning it_ gets you. Humanity doesn't have the mental capacity to deal with a freedom that large, especially when the consequence is something so small in comparison."

Derek's whistling stopped abruptly, and Scott looked over to him warily, frowning when he saw a weird see-through _dragon_ curling around Derek's body.

"What the hell is that?" Scott demanded, eyes wide.

"Our banshee, Tnerg. You would've met her at the barbecue if you hadn't run off," Derek said.

"Banshee? You mean that's Lydia?"

"No. Lydia can't become a banshee like Tnerg," Stiles replied, giving a short whistle to call Tnerg over to him.

She unwrapped herself from Derek immediately, flying over to curl around Stiles' torso, trilling a noise of happiness. Scott winced and covered his ears, the noise loud and piercing to his sensitive werewolf hearing. Stiles cooed over Tnerg, scratching her behind the ears, her happy trills going on in a continuous string of noise. Scott roared a werewolf's roar when the noise didn't stop, and leapt off the building roof to escape.

"Well, he didn't last long," Derek murmured, watching as Scott ran across the parking lot and towards the forest.

"I didn't think he would," Stiles snickered. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get Artemis and get out of here," he murmured, stroking Tnerg gently once more before she unwound herself from his body.

"If he'd stayed, would you have answered Scott's question?" Derek asked curiously, walking over to stand by Stiles, Scott long gone from sight now.

Stiles snorted and shook his head. "Fuck him and his questions. I'm a fucking god." Stiles slipped his phone out of his pocket, then grinned at Derek. "I'm also fucking a god, but that's not the point."

Derek laughed, pressing a kiss to his mouth as Stiles dialled a number, then stepped back to let him make his call.

"Yeah, hi, this is Stiles. Could you page Melissa McCall for me? Code SGH," Stiles said, hanging up with a slight grin on his lips.

Derek cocked his head and listened to the code being played on the hospital speakers. "What's SGH mean? Scott... something?"

"Scott's gone home. Melissa usually wanted to know so she wouldn't accidentally leave without him, or would spend time looking for him when he'd already left. Both happened enough times for there to be a code."

Derek nodded, moving to cup Stiles' face in his hand, his thumb stroking along the scattering of moles on his cheek. "This has always been my favourite constellation," he admitted softly.

Stiles beamed at him, pulling him in for a kiss. Derek responded just as enthusiastically as he ever had, arms wrapped around Stiles' waist. They only pulled away when Derek heard Melissa and Artemis making their way up from the bottom of the stairs to the roof.

"It's almost over, Dor. Not too much longer and this will all be ours again," Stiles murmured.

"I know, Zbee. Let's get this over with first, then we'll focus on our future," Derek said, kissing him a few seconds before Melissa unlocked and opened the door.

"Did Scott leave of his own accord, or did one of you throw him off the roof?" Melissa asked, hands on her hips.

"He didn't like the sound of Tnerg being happy, and ran off," Stiles replied with a shrug.

Melissa looked from them to Tnerg, then sighed heavily and looked down at Artemis. "What am I going to do with them, Artemis?"

Artemis licked her hand and whined gently.

"Yeah, all right. You can go home. No dragon-like banshees in the hospital. You can wait for them somewhere else, somewhere you won't scare my patients to death," Melissa added to Tnerg.

_That one dares to tell Tnerg what to do? Tnerg will go where it pleases!_

"Tnerg, sweetheart, calm down. Melissa's right. We'll meet you at home, okay?" Stiles said, stroking her scales to help calm her again.

Tnerg gave another trill, dull this time, but wound around Stiles and Derek once before flying off the roof and in the direction of the loft.

"Scott wasn't willing to listen, I'm guessing?" Melissa asked as she led them back downstairs.

Stiles took Derek's hand, their clasped skin glowing blue for a moment. It transferred his thoughts in a single second, and Derek nodded in response.

"No, he wasn't. It doesn't seem like he'll listen to reason at all, really," Stiles added.

"We don't want to make it difficult between you and your son, Melissa," Derek said.

"And we definitely don't want to do something that will push Scott away from you, or even try to use you against us. He knows how much you mean to us."

Melissa pressed the button for the elevator, frowning slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're the closest maternal figure either of us have had in quite some time, and we take parents - and parental figures - very seriously," Stiles explained.

"Not that; the part about Scott using me against you. He's my son, he wouldn't... He wouldn't hurt me, not even to spite you two," Melissa said, though her voice wasn't as certain as it could have been.

Scott had distant lately, ever since Kira left, and more prone to picking fights or staying out at night, even though it was a school night and she knew there were no threats to Beacon Hills. In fact, ever since Stiles and Derek had revealed themselves as gods, it was as if the entire supernatural community just _stopped_. There had been no attacks, no threats, not even a follow-up attack by the wendigo boy (she'd read the Bestiary entry for herself, and Melissa now knew that once they tasted flesh or blood, they would crave it until they could consume it in its entirety. Deaton had given her a talisman to protect her, and she wore it in her hair, pinned under her bandanna when in the operating theatre).

In fact, now that she was thinking about it, Melissa realised that the cold that was usual for this time of year was much more pleasant. There were still cold winds and rain, but it seemed the help the plant life thrive rather than freeze or drown it as most winters did. Even now, when it was later in the day and there should be a heavy frost setting in on the ground and over her car window, it was still warm - warm enough for her to leave three men up on the roof without a concern, at least.

"We want to agree with you on that, Melissa. But Scott's always been stubborn, and he does have a habit of hurting people, even if he doesn't realise it," Stiles said, thinking of the way Scott had turned his back on him and left with Deucalion almost four years ago.

"We want you to keep Artemis with you, to keep you safe. He won't harm Scott, not unless it's absolutely necessary, but he'll make sure that Scott won't hurt you," Derek said, scratching Artemis between the ears.

"Oh, I couldn't. He's your dog!"

"Technically, he doesn't belong to anyone anymore. He's his own dog," Stiles said, grinning. "Artemis loves you; I reckon he'd stay even if we didn't ask him to," he added.

Artemis gave a soft bark and licked Melissa's hand again. Melissa's heart melted even more for the lovely dog, and she gave in to those big brown eyes just as easily as her son might have once.

"What food does he eat?"

"Don't you worry about that; we'll make sure you get it," Derek promised crouched down to give Artemis another scratch. "You look after Melissa, all right, Artemis? Be good," he murmured.

Artemis whined and licked Derek's cheek, then Stiles' hand.

"Love you too, Artie," Stiles said, patting him gently, then clipping on his lead and handing it to Melissa.

Derek stood up and surprised Melissa as he pulled her in for a firm hug. Before she could ask anything, Stiles did the same, lingering for a moment before he pulled away.

"Why does it feel like I'm not going to see you two again?" Melissa asked, trying to laugh, the sound coming out a bit more broken than she'd intended.

"Oh, you will. One more time, at least," Stiles promised with a wink and grin.

"Don't forget about that ticket," Derek added, turning to leave hand-in-hand with Stiles.

Melissa wanted to call out after them, to ask where they were going, or to say goodbye properly, but by then they were already gone. Artemis pressed up against her leg, his weight solid and warm against her, and it was a comfort that she hadn't had in some time. Melissa sighed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"Come on, boy, let's go say bye to the kids," she murmured, patting him and leading him down the corridor easily.

...

His ears ringing, Scott jumped off the hospital roof. He narrowly avoided landing on top of a parked car and ran straight for the trees. He almost tripped over a tree stump that he was certain hadn't been there a second ago, but continued through the forest until he broke out on the other side, panting and sweaty. Realising that he was close to the vet, Scott headed down the road to his work.

 _Deaton should be back now, and maybe he might have some advice to help stop Derek and Stiles_ , Scott mused.

He jogged, trying to cool down after his fast-paced run, and Scott felt somewhat back to normal by the time he saw the veterinary clinic up ahead. His ears weren't ringing anymore, at least. Bypassing the front door, Scott headed to the back of the clinic where the staff entrance was located. He frowned when he saw Deaton's car, packed full of boxes. Deaton came out of the clinic, another box in his arms, and stopped short on seeing Scott.

"So that's it? You're _leaving?_ You're not even going to fight?!" Scott demanded.

"I am a Druid, Scott, not a warrior," Deaton said, moving to his car again and putting the box with the others in the backseat.

"You fought alongside the Hales! Peter told me; you used to fight with them when there was a threat in town. You were feared and respected for it!"

"Yes, I was. However, the things that motivated me to fight back then are no longer around to keep me fighting," Deaton replied, voice as soft and calm as ever. "Admittedly, even if those things were still around, I would still have no intention of fighting."

"So you'd just prefer to do nothing and _die_?!" Scott asked hotly.

"I refuse to fight in a battle I know I will not win. Instead, I plan to retire and live peacefully as I've not had the choice to do so until now."

"You're giving in, just like the others!"

"You may call it that, if it makes you feel any better," Deaton said, shrugging. "I do not have the same convictions as you do, Scott. If you can convince others of your idea, perhaps those that believe as strongly as you do will follow you."

Deaton reached out for Scott, maybe to offer solace or comfort, or even to shake him, Scott didn't know. He stepped back out of Deaton's reach and shook his head firmly.

"Just _leave!_ Just go and leave, like everyone else! You could have helped me, you could have saved us all, but now? I hope you die first!" Scott yelled, turning and running without looking back.

Deaton watched after him, long after he was gone from sight, and then turned back to his clinic to finish packing his things. He would drop the keys for the veterinary clinic to Melissa McCall once he was finished, in order to leave the clinic to Scott. Deaton just hoped that he would continue the work he had started, to serve the community of Beacon Hills and their beloved animals, and not be wholly consumed by the impending Apocalypse. Somehow, he doubted his protégé would be able to resist fighting to the bitter end, even if it was to the end of the world itself.

...

Even before the Sheriff's barbecue on the weekend, Parrish had been contemplating going to talk to Stiles and Derek. He'd heard things from Lydia, from Melissa, from Scott, even from Kira and Chris before they'd left that had piqued his interest. Until now though, he'd always been busy with work, and if he hadn't been busy at work, then Jordan had to admit if only to himself that he'd been avoiding Stiles and Derek. He had seen the way people had changed after they'd visited or talked with Stiles and Derek, and Parrish had been afraid of the same thing happening to him.

He had seen what they could do, with Liam and Mason no longer recognising him as anything other than a Deputy; he knew how they could control Lydia as a banshee; and the Sheriff had even explained everything to him - from why they were planning on ending the world, to why Henry, the man who used to sleep outside of the hospital, was now sleeping in the Stilinski's spare bedroom instead. Parrish trusted the man with his life, he had questions that the Sheriff couldn't answer, and after two years of searching, he _needed_ answers. Stiles and Derek knew more than even the Bestiary could provide, and as the book still hadn't revealed exactly what he was, he thought they might be able to tell him.

Making his way up to the loft, Parrish wasn't overly surprised to see the door already open. Stiles popped his head out of the doorway and gave him a broad grin. Then Stiles' grin faltered, and his eyes narrowed warily.

"You're not going to ask if we're really going to kill everyone, are you?"

"Uh, no. I was going to ask if you know what I am," Parrish replied, a little confused at Stiles' question.

"In that case, come on in," Stiles said, stepping back and splaying his arm wide.

Parrish was surprised to see two suitcases open on the dining table, stuffed full of clothes and other necessary items, sheets covering some pieces of furniture, and an open box on the kitchen bench with pot handles sticking out.

"You're moving?"

"Not quite," Stiles said, frowning as he picked up a toiletries bag that held three toothbrushes. "Dor, did you put Artemis' toothbrush in with ours? That's gross!"

"We forgot to send it to Melissa with everything else," Derek said, coming into the living room area with two pairs of hiking boots in his hands. "I wanted to be able to find it when we drop it off on the way."

"That's not my point, Dor," Stiles muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Oral hygiene is very important for dogs as well as people," Derek replied, and Parrish could see him starting to grin; he was teasing Stiles.

Stiles must have noticed the barely-there grin as well, because he scowled and threw the toothbrushes at Derek. Derek dropped the boots onto the sheet-covered lounge and caught all three toothbrushes.

"Leave the jokes to me."

"I will when you think of something funny," Derek teased, kissing Stiles. "You wanted to ask us something, Deputy?" he asked, turning to him with Stiles caught in his embrace.

"He wants to know what he is," Stiles said, swatting at Derek's arm to get out.

"Ah, of course. You're a phoenix."

"Wow, that was anti-climatic, Der. Couldn't have added some flair to it, or something?"

"That's your specialty, Zbee, not mine. Next time, I'll have fireworks ready."

Stiles snorted. "You're a dork. And you owe me a new toothbrush."

"I'll buy you the entire Avengers toothbrush set if you forgive me," Derek cajoled.

" _Ooh_ , done!"

While they were bantering, Parrish found that his knees were a little weak and he needed to sit down. He'd dealt with war, with bombs, but after searching for so long, to finally know what he was was a completely unexpected shock. There were no chairs nearby, and his knees gave in as he sank down to sit on the ground. He heard a trilling sound and found Stiles' banshee wrapped around him a moment later. Parrish stared down at Tnerg, patting her scales absent-mindedly as he watched her glow red. He felt his shock ebb away slowly, and as he came back to himself properly, Parrish tried to remember the Bestiary entry for phoenixes. He'd read the whole thing from cover to cover several times over the last few years, and nothing had ever really struck him as being _right_.

"The Bestiary isn't right, is it?" Parrish asked, interrupting Stiles and Derek's conversation about a limited edition Black Widow toothbrush. "I've read it, and the phoenix entry doesn't fit."

"The entry in the Bestiary is too vague for you to relate to, which is why you haven't found anything that matched you. There are other books that have more reliable information. I know where some are; we'll send them to Lydia to translate for you when we're passing by," Stiles offered.

"Oh. Thank you."

"No problem. Any more questions?" Stiles asked, heading into the kitchen to get Parrish a glass of water.

He waited until Stiles returned with the water, accepting the glass and drinking it down in a long steady motion. "Why?"

"Why _what?_ " Derek asked.

"Why did you choose to make me a phoenix? Why not a human, like everyone else?"

"It's kinda like _Harry Potter_ , Deputy: the soul chooses the person. You were the person best suited to have a phoenix's soul, so you received a phoenix's soul. It's not anything we've chosen and then stuffed in your body like turkey stuffing. We created _trillions_ of souls, and the souls attach to people on their own, we have no say in it. In fact, there are probably some souls that have never attached yet, still floating out there in the universe waiting for the right person to come along," Stiles added.

"Stiles, you're getting philosophical again."

"I'm allowed to do that. What if one of my best and brightest souls is still stuck out there in the universe with no one to invade like the alien in Alien?"

"Fine, I'll get you the limited edition Black Widow toothbrush."

"You cave so easily," Stiles said, crowing with laughter.

Derek pressed a kiss to his temple, but didn't reply. He turned back to Parrish instead, offering him a hand. "We can uncover a chair for you, you know."

"I'll be all right now. It was just a slight shock," he replied with a quick grin.

"If you're sure?" Derek asked, taking the empty glass Parrish offered.

"I'm sure. Do you have time for a few more questions?"

"Only if they're good ones," Stiles quipped, grinning.

Parrish smiled back. "I think I can manage that."

...

An hour later, with Parrish helping them pack and asking his questions along the way, Stiles and Derek had finally finished packing and Parrish had run out of questions to ask. He left them to their last night in Beacon Hills, blushing slightly when they already started kissing and undressing each other before the loft door had even closed behind him.

Derek pulled Stiles up firm against his body, cupping his ass through his jeans. Stiles snaked his hand between them to undo Derek's buttoned jeans, kissing his exposed shoulder lightly.

"On your back, love. I want to watch you," Stiles murmured against his skin.

Derek let go of Stiles' ass reluctantly and stepped back, shucking off his jeans and pulling his shirt off the rest of the way. He watched Stiles' eyes as they darkened with lust, and grinned as he pulled off his briefs before heading towards the bed. Stiles stripped out of his clothes, following eagerly.

Stiles worked slowly and methodically on his lover, lips, teeth, tongue, and fingers teasing and caressing at Derek's skin, small blue sparks of static lightning between their flesh. Derek felt like Stiles was the moon, his mouth and hands and body pulling at him stronger than the ocean and her tides with the waxing and waning of the moon. He felt his centre of being shift in a way he'd never felt before, the swell and motion of his body responding to none other than Stiles, and in that moment, Derek knew that not even the moon could hold sway over him, not the way Stiles did. He clutched to Stiles, their bodies encased in blue flame, and he crashed their mouths together, waves crashing against the sand, trying to tell him everything he couldn't speak aloud.

Stiles, his beautiful, wonderful, brilliant lover, seemed to understand exactly what Derek was trying to say, and the flames increased around them, brighter and stronger than ever before. They moved against each other, bodies almost floating off the bed itself, and there was something in them that they'd never known before, taking over them as Stiles eased his hard cock into Derek, their entire beings reduced to nothing more their emotion and need. Derek came with a howl, spilling between them, and Stiles followed with a cry of his own, slumping over Derek's shoulder. Their chests heaved as they breathed heavily, Stiles' peppering soft kisses to his skin when he finally had his breath back.

Derek stared at the blue flames around them, his hands loath to leave their resting place on Stiles' sweaty skin, but he had to know. He reached out a hand, surprised to see his fingers actually trembling, and when he touched the shield, it didn't waver. They were completely encased, completely protected, and he tilted his head back and _laughed_.

"We're finally ready," Derek said, grinning at Stiles' querying look.

Stiles looked up at the flames above them, arm stretched high above his head, and tested the barrier with a sharp-nailed finger. There was nothing, not even a waver in the flames, and he grinned broadly before kissing Derek eagerly.

" _Finally_."

...

End of the ninth chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending for this story kind of snuck up on me - there will be one more chapter as a sort of epilogue, and then another in the series to depict the Stiles and Derek vs. Scott and his army.


	10. Chapter 10

Greenberg wasn't stupid. Coach might disagree, but he really wasn't as stupid as most people believed him to be. However, thanks to others' perceived notions of his limited intelligence, it meant that he was practically invisible - in school, in the world itself - and that brought a whole other level of knowledge. People _said_ things, not caring that he might overhear because what would Greenberg do with that information? Recently, he'd heard Scott, Lydia, Kira, even Liam and Mason before they went _weird_ and didn't even recognise Scott anymore, and the things they were saying all led him to this place: what looked to be an abandoned apartment building on the wrong side of the tracks.

He had no idea who this Derek and Stiles people were ( _in fact, was Stiles even a person's name?_ ), but Greenberg was pretty sure they'd be able to answer his questions. If nothing else, he hoped for that. It wasn't like he'd tell anyone what they told him, because that invisibility extended to possible friends, and Greenberg really didn't _have_ anyone to tell anything to. Coach wouldn't listen, in any case.

Making his way up to the loft, Greenberg tried not to wince at the loud sound of the elevator's alarm going off. It stopped when the elevator's ascent stopped, and he opened the grate doors with a sigh of relief. Stepping forward onto the landing, Greenberg looked down the small corridor to the only door - a large metal thing that looked entirely too heavy to move on his own - and frowned when he saw a blue light emitting from under the gap in the door.

He hurried down to the door, knocking as loud as he could, his knuckles aching immediately. Greenberg saw the blue light flickering, bit his bottom lip at his sudden bout of nerves, and tried to swallow with a dry mouth and lump in his throat without choking.

When he pulled at the handle, the door opened with ease. The loft seemed to be empty, apart from the furniture and blue light, and Greenberg thought of haunted houses, of the various pranks that he'd been witness to over the years, and wondered for a brief moment if this was finally his own rite of initiation. _Maybe the lacrosse guys had set everything up to make him worry and come here, just so they could prank him? Maybe he'd finally be considered part of the team if he went through with it? Coach might even let him play in a game_.

Stepping into the loft, Greenberg dropped his bag by the entrance and tried to keep his nerves under control as he walked through the open plan space. He couldn't see anyone, but that blue light was everywhere, and he couldn't see where it was coming from either. It bathed everything in an eerie light, all of the furniture covered in sheets, swaying in a breeze that he couldn't feel through his lacrosse jersey, the kitchen bench covered in taped-up boxes, and everything packed as if the people living here had already left. Determined to see this through, prank or not, Greenberg headed to the only proper room in the loft: the bedroom.

Thankfully, the door to the bedroom wasn't metal or heavy, and it opened easily and without a sound when he turned the doorknob. Greenberg stared at the _things_ in front of him - _they weren't emitting the light, they_ ** _were_** _the light_ , he thought, hysterically thinking that his physics textbooks had lied to him - with a red different _thing_ with them, and when he overcame enough of his shock to gather oxygen in his lungs, Greenberg screamed.

The one that was Stiles winced as best as he could in his otherworldly form, and the other that was Derek did the same across from him. They both turned to see a student from Beacon Hills High in their doorway, his entry not detected by either being when they were distracted. Tnerg screeched and flew forward to defend her master and his lover, and Greenberg screamed as he brought his arms up to shield his face.

The mass of blue light that was Stiles shifted and swirled, reducing down until his human form stood on the floor once more. Derek followed, though the scowl on his face when he returned indicated that he definitely wasn't happy.

"Who the fuck is that?" Derek growled.

The dead body on their bedroom floor didn't reply.

...

At first, the Sheriff hadn't worried when neither Stiles nor Derek answered their phones. However, Stiles was usually fast to reply to any text messages or return any voice messages he left, and when the Sheriff didn't receive a reply almost two days later, he headed over to the loft to see if they were all right.

As he headed over to the building's door, the Sheriff considered Melissa's offer for dinner (she'd apparently won a fairly substantial sum of money from a recent lottery; she'd immediately paid off everything that she'd owed - electricity bills included - and was planning on having a celebratory dinner somewhere fancy. John was invited, but only if he ate the salad with his meal). He decided to call her and accept right then and there, standing outside of the building door as he made the call. Melissa sounded delighted that he'd accepted, and John would be lying if he didn't admit to some excitement on his part too. It had been a long time since he'd ... well, since he'd done anything besides work or sit in front of the TV.

John headed inside, pressing the button for the elevator and waiting for the familiar sound of the alarm. He frowned when the elevator doors didn't open, and the alarm stayed silent. A moment later, he concluded that the elevator wasn't working, and the Sheriff had a prickle of worry at the back of his neck as he started up the stairs. By the time he reached the top landing for the loft, he was seriously regretting his decision to eat a bacon sandwich for dinner the night before.

The loft door was ajar, the fading light from the day spilling out into the corridor. No other lights were on, and the Sheriff walked forward cautiously. He could see something attached to the loft door, stuck by a magnet, but he didn't relax completely when he saw the note that had been left.

_Gone travelling, be back later!_

They were gone. It took a few moments for that to sink in, and John felt an ache in his chest, almost like a betrayal, that Stiles and Derek hadn't said goodbye to him before they'd left.

He almost turned and left then, his mind still taken up by the note and its implications, when the Sheriff saw a schoolbag sitting inside of the loft. He unclipped his gun but didn't take it out just yet; he didn't want to accidentally shoot an innocent school kid if they were just vandalising the loft or something. The Sheriff listened for any noise, footsteps, the shake of a spray paint can, anything, but there was nothing. His heart felt heavy in his chest, his breath shaky when he saw a pair of feet sticking out of the bedroom door. The Sheriff kept his footsteps slow and cautious as he headed towards the bedroom, not wanting to startle anyone that might still be in the loft. There was a part of him, the part that was a father and worried over his son, that was terrified that it was Stiles lying there, possibly dead or dying.

The Sheriff made it to the bedroom without incident - the loft was deserted - and he was almost disgusted with himself when he felt _relief_ to see that it wasn't Stiles. His son was still alive, and unlike his previous lives on Earth, he hadn't been killed yet again.

Unfortunately, he had a dead body of a high school student in a deserted loft that was probably unregistered, since Derek no longer seemed to exist (he'd checked his database at the police station for both Stiles and Derek, and could find neither despite knowing they were both in there). He had no idea what the coroner would determine as the kid's cause of death, since John couldn't see any signs of outward trauma, but he just hoped that it wouldn't be anything too extreme that would set off alarm bells. It would be difficult to explain why he was in the loft when he seemingly had no reason to be, and there just so happened to be a dead body there with a suspicious cause of death.

Taking out his phone, the Sheriff called the police station to let them know what had happened, and then with a heavy sigh, he called Melissa to explain the situation and cancel their date. _It had barely been ten minutes; that had to be a new record_ , John thought and it made him feel somewhat depressed.

"Well, in that case, I guess I'll have to cancel too. The coroner is out of town for the weekend, and I'm the only other one qualified to deal with something like this," Melissa said with a heavy sigh.

"Well, that's definitely a small mercy then. Look, I've got no idea how this kid died, and I have a feeling that whatever you find is something we're going to want to keep under wraps," John muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose firmly to stave off an impending migraine.

"You mean we're going to have to fudge our way through the coroner's report? Again?" Melissa added, thinking of the poor girl from Satomi's pack who had died from a wolfsbane bullet after straying too far beyond the boundaries while the Calaveras were still in town; ' _overdose_ ' had been listed as the cause of death instead. "I'm not sure I can deal with that on my own," Melissa said with a small sigh.

"I'll bring Chinese?" John offered, trying hard not to smile while at a crime scene, and probably failing.

"I'll love you for it," she replied, and John heard her actually smack her palm against her forehead. "That's not to say... I mean..."

John grinned and shook his head briefly. With an unknown amount of time left on Earth, he wasn't going to hold back anymore. "I'd like that, Mel."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes, really," he replied firmly. "Now, I have to go because smiling at a crime-scene isn't good etiquette," John added.

Melissa's laughter had him pausing a moment before he hung up the phone, and John allowed himself one more smile before he went to let Parrish and the others into the loft.

...

Scott gave a nod to the nurse at reception as he walked straight past and headed towards the patient area. By now, they knew him well enough that he didn't have to sign in or even call for a doctor. Over the PA system, Peter Hale's doctor was called, and he arrived to meet Scott at the door to the supernatural ward with a nurse and sedative in tow.

"The full three hours again, Mr. McCall?"

"Yes. Have you considered my request to have Peter moved to his own cell? It would be less demanding on your time then," Scott added.

"I'll be taking the issue to the board meeting this afternoon."

"I can sit on the meeting, if you'd like? They might need some encouragement," Scott said, his eyes filtering to red subconsciously.

"N-no. I'm sure I'll be quite able to convince them, not to worry, Mr. McCall," the doctor said quickly, the hairs on his neck and arms standing on end at the threat, however oblivious Scott was to having delivered it.

"That's great. Dr. Valuck would probably appreciate not being knocked out every time I come to visit Peter, too," Scott said with a grin as the nurse approached the two cellmates.

Dr. Valuck glared at them with his three eyes, but before any of them could be pulled down into their own minds, the nurse injected him with the sedative. His eyes blinked slowly, drowsily, and then Dr. Valuck fell back onto his cot, all of his eyes closed. The nurse grabbed Peter, not exactly gentle with the werewolf, and carried him out to another room, Scott following with the doctor a moment later.

"I sincerely hope you get what you need from Mr. Hale soon, Mr. McCall. Going into his mind constantly - especially after he's been contained with Dr. Valuck for so long - is not a good thing for you _or_ him," the doctor warned.

"I'll be fine. Thanks, though," Scott said.

The doctor didn't seem appeased, but he nodded and left with the nurse a moment later.

"Don't forget about the meeting this afternoon, Doctor," Scott called out after him.

Scott heard the doctor's pulse and footsteps quicken and gave a slight grin. His claws grew out a second later and he plunged them into the back of Peter's neck, the older werewolf's body lurching off the chair awkwardly.

In his mind, Peter stood in a penthouse apartment, again, his mind's self looking _much_ calmer and put together than his exterior self. He looked over Scott and smiled smugly. "I take it you're not here for a social visit?"

"You know I'm not, Peter," Scott said, his glare half-hearted at best.

"Good. What news of your little gods?"

Scott's expression turned stormy and he grit his teeth for a moment. "They're gone. It's like they've just disappeared from the face of the earth. I even asked my dad to look for them on the government's facial recognition software, and they're nowhere in the US, apparently."

"Well, for now, we'll consider that a good thing. It gives you more time to prepare and organise your forces against them. Now, I know you're the True Alpha and you have qualms about killing unnecessarily, but if you're to win this war and survive, True Alpha Scott McCall, then we may have to loosen your moral standards somewhat."

Scott frowned slightly, but eventually acquiesced with a nod. "What do you have in mind?"

Peter turned to look out of the penthouse apartment's window, the view as brilliant as it was fake, and smirked.

...

"Think they've found Greenberg's body yet?" Stiles asked, following Derek up a trail on Mount Kosciuszko.

"Probably; it's already been two weeks, Zbee," Derek replied, not looking back as he adjusted his hiking bag on his shoulders. "It was a shame he had to arrive when we were testing my theory, but I'm just glad it worked."

"So am I. It would've sucked to be stuck in those forms for another two-hundred years," Stiles muttered.

"The theory was sound, and Tnerg being here helped us achieve better control," Derek argued.

"I know that, Dor; I wasn't disagreeing," Stiles said, moving to press a kiss to his cheek.

Derek turned and nuzzled against Stiles' neck, kissing him softly before Stiles pulled away.

"Ooh, look! A mountain pygmy possum! It's so _cute_. I _definitely_ made that one," Stiles said, snapping a quick photo of the creature before placing a large and exaggerated tick on his list.

Derek snorted, but he turned beside Stiles to watch as the small animal scampered across the rocky floor, the moon bright above them. Tnerg was still wrapped around Stiles' waist, dozing due to what she called boredom. Derek was fairly certain that even while dozing, she was still leaching most of Stiles' excitement, because he was a lot calmer than he had been three hours ago when they began their hike.

"One endangered animal down, only 41,414 species to go."

"Including the plant life?" Derek asked curiously.

"Of course. We're going up to check on my coral reefs next, right?" Stiles asked, looking down at his list again.

"I think you mean _my_ coral reefs," Derek countered.

"Pfft, you made seaweed, I made the reefs. You've got absolutely no eye for beauty," Stiles replied, smirking.

Derek turned, cupping Stiles' face before kissing him lightly. "You're absolutely right, Zbee"

Stiles spluttered at his insult, and Derek grinned before kissing him once more. Stiles relaxed against him, forgiving him easily enough, and they both knew it.

"Let's keep going; we've still got a lot of ground to cover," Derek said, looking over to the trail ahead. "I'm sure we'll find a few more animals and plants further away from the population."

"I hope so," Stiles agreed with a nod.

Tucking his phone and list away, Stiles took Derek's hand and they walked up the mountain together to continue with their holiday.

...

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading!
> 
> I really hope you've enjoyed this story.
> 
> I've already started on the next in this series, so keep an eye out for it! (Or subscribe, whichever's easiest for you) ^_^


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